BY 


MEREDITH'NICHOLSON 


THIS   BOOK   BELONGS  TO 


'DO  YOU   MIND   TELLING   ME   JUST   WHY  YOU   READ  THAT 
NOTE? 


'REVERSIBLE 
SANT/ICLAUS 


ft   "MEREDITH  NICHOLSON 


TLORENCE  H.MIN/ZRD 


BOSTON  ttnd  NEW  YORK 

TtQVOHTON  MIFTLIN  COMPANY 


COPYRIGHT,    1917,   BY   MEREDITH   NICHOLSON 
ALL    RIGHTS    RESERVED 

Published  October  IQIJ 


"  DO  YOU  MIND  TELLING  ME  JUST  WHY  YOU  READ 

THAT  NOTE?"  Frontispiece 

THE  HOPPER  GRINNED,  PROUD  OF  HIS  SUCCESS, 
WHICH  MARY  AND  HUMPY  VIEWED  WITH  GRUDG- 
ING ADMIRATION  44 

THE  FAINT  CLICK  OF  A  LATCH  MARKED  THE 
PROWLER'S  PROXIMITY  TO  A  HEDGE  116 

THE  THREE  MEN  GATHERED  ROUND  THEM,  STAR- 
ING DULLY  150 

From  Drawings  by  F.  Minard 


2226889 


Qfc  (gtteraiWe  $&nt&  Cfou* 
I 


MR.  WILLIAM  B.  AIKINS,  alias  "Softy" 
Hubbard,  alias  Billy  The  Hopper,  paused 
for  breath  behind  a  hedge  that  bordered 
a  quiet  lane  and  peered  out  into  the  high- 
way at  a  roadster  whose  tail  light  adver- 
tised its  presence  to  his  felonious  gaze.  It 
was  Christmas  Eve,  and  after  a  day  of  un- 
seasonable warmth  a  slow,  drizzling  rain 
was  whimsically  changing  to  snow. 

The   Hopper  was   blowing   from   two 
hours'  hard  travel  over  rough  country.  He 


had  stumbled  through  woodlands,  flat- 
tened himself  in  fence  corners  to  avoid  the 
eyes  of  curious  motorists  speeding  home- 
ward or  flying  about  distributing  Christ- 
mas gifts,  and  he  was  now  bent  upon  com- 
mitting himself  to  an  inter-urban  trolley 
line  that  would  afford  comfortable  trans- 
portation for  the  remainder  of  his  journey. 
Twenty  miles,  he  estimated,  still  lay  be- 
tween him  and  his  domicile. 

The  rain  had  penetrated  his  clothing 
and  vigorous  exercise  had  not  greatly  di- 
minished the  chill  in  his  blood.  His  heart 
knocked  violently  against  his  ribs  and  he 
was  dismayed  by  his  shortness  of  wind. 
The  Hopper  was  not  so  young  as  in  the 
days  when  his  agility  and  genius  for  effect- 
ing a  quick  "get-away  "  had  earned  for  him 
his  sobriquet.  The  last  time  his  Bertillon 
measurements  were  checked  (he  was  sub- 
4 


(ft  (Re&ttriMt  ^anfa  Cfaw 

jected  to  this  humiliating  experience  in 
Omaha  during  the  Ak-Sar-Ben  carnival 
three  years  earlier)  official  note  was  taken 
of  the  fact  that  The  Hopper's  hair,  long 
carried  in  the  records  as  black,  was  rapidly 
whitening. 

At  forty-eight  a  crook  —  even  so  re- 
sourceful and  versatile  a  member  of  the 
fraternity  as  The  Hopper  —  begins  to  mis- 
trust himself.  For  the  greater  part  of  his 
life,  when  not  in  durance  vile,  The  Hop- 
per had  been  in  hiding,  and  the  state  or 
condition  of  being  a  fugitive,  hunted  by 
keen-eyed  agents  of  justice,  is  not,  from 
all  accounts,  an  enviable  one.  His  latest 
experience  of  involuntary  servitude  had 
been  under  the  auspices  of  the  State  of 
Oregon,  for  a  trifling  indiscretion  in  the 
way  of  safe-blowing.  Having  served  his 
sentence,  he  skillfully  effaced  himself  by 
5 


(Rmmfife 

a  year's  siesta  on  a  pine-apple  plantation 
in  Hawaii.  The  island  climate  was  not 
wholly  pleasing  to  The  Hopper,  and  when 
pine-apples  palled  he  took  passage  from 
Honolulu  as  a  stoker,  reached  San  Fran- 
cisco (not  greatly  chastened  in  spirit),  and 
by  a  series  of  characteristic  hops,  skips, 
and  jumps  across  the  continent  landed  in 
Maine  by  way  of  the  Canadian  provinces. 
The  Hopper  needed  money.  He  was 
not  without  a  certain  crude  philosophy, 
and  it  had  been  his  dream  to  acquire  by 
some  brilliant  coup  a  sufficient  fortune 
upon  which  to  retire  and  live  as  a  decent, 
law-abiding  citizen  for  the  remainder  of 
his  days.  This  ambition,  or  at  least  the 
means  to  its  fulfillment,  can  hardly  be  de- 
fended as  praiseworthy,  but  The  Hopper 
was  a  singular  character  and  we  must  take 
him  as  we  find  him.  Many  prison  chap- 
6 


(ft  (ReomifiCe 

lains  and  jail  visitors  bearing  tracts  had 
striven  with  little  success  to  implant 
moral  ideals  in  the  mind  and  soul  of  The 
Hopper,  but  he  was  still  to  be  catalogued 
among  the  impenitent ;  and  as  he  moved 
southward  through  the  Commonwealth 
of  Maine  he  was  so  oppressed  by  his  pov- 
erty, as  contrasted  with  the  world's  abun- 
dance, that  he  lifted  forty  thousand  dol- 
lars in  a  neat  bundle  from  an  express 
car  which  Providence  had  sidetracked, 
apparently  for  his  personal  enrichment, 
on  the  upper  waters  of  the  Penobscot. 
Whereupon  he  began  perforce  playing  his 
old  game  of  artful  dodging,  exercising  his 
best  powers  as  a  hopper  and  skipper. 
Forty  thousand  dollars  is  no  inconsider- 
able sum  of  money,  and  the  success  of 
this  master  stroke  of  his  career  was  not 
to  be  jeopardized  by  careless  moves.  By 
7 


(ft  (Rmwifife 

craftily  hiding  in  the  big  woods  and  mak- 
ing himself  agreeable  to  isolated  lumber- 
jacks who  rarely  saw  newspapers,  he  ar- 
rived in  due  course  on  Manhattan  Island, 
where  with  shrewd  judgment  he  avoided 
the  haunts  of  his  kind  while  planning  a 
future  commensurate  with  his  new  dig- 
nity as  a  capitalist. 

He  spent  a  year  as  a  diligent  and  faith- 
ful employee  of  a  garage  which  served 
a  fashionable  quarter  of  the  metropolis; 
then,  animated  by  a  worthy  desire  to 
continue  to  lead  an  honest  life,  he  pur- 
chased a  chicken  farm  fifteen  miles  as 
the  crow  flies  from  Center  Church,  New 
Haven,  and  boldly  opened  a  bank  ac- 
count in  that  academic  center  in  his 
newly  adopted  name  of  Charles  S.  Stev- 
ens, of  Happy  Hill  Farm.  Feeling  the 
need  of  companionship,  he  married  a  lady 
8 


(ft  (Keuemfife  ^anfa  CCau* 

somewhat  his  junior,  a  shoplifter  of  the 
second  class,  whom  he  had  known  before 
the  vigilance  of  the  metropolitan  police 
necessitated  his  removal  to  the  Far  West. 
Mrs.  Stevens's  inferior  talents  as  a  petty 
larcenist  had  led  her  into  many  difficul- 
ties, and  she  gratefully  availed  herself  of 
The  Hopper's  offer  of  his  heart  and 
hand. 

They  had  added  to  their  establishment 
a  retired  yegg  who  had  lost  an  eye  by  the 
premature  popping  of  the  "soup"  (i.e., 
nitro-glycerin)  poured  into  the  crevices 
of  a  country  post-office  in  Missouri.  In 
offering  shelter  to  Mr.  James  Whitesides, 
alias  " Humpy"  Thompson,  The  Hop- 
per's motives  had  not  been  wholly  unself- 
ish, as  Humpy  had  been  entrusted  with 
the  herding  of  poultry  in  several  peni- 
tentiaries and  was  familiar  with  the  most 
9 


(ft  (RtwreUUt  ^anfa  Cfcw* 

advanced  scientific  thought  on  chicken 
culture. 

The  roadster  was  headed  toward  his 
home  and  The  Hopper  contemplated  it 
in  the  deepening  dusk  with  greedy  eyes. 
His  labors  in  the  New  York  garage  had 
familiarized  him  with  automobiles,  and 
while  he  was  not  ignorant  of  the  pains 
and  penalties  inflicted  upon  lawless  per- 
sons who  appropriate  motors  illegally,  he 
was  the  victim  of  an  irresistible  tempta- 
tion to  jump  into  the  machine  thus  left  in 
the  highway,  drive  as  near  home  as  he 
dared,  and  then  abandon  it.  The  owner 
of  the  roadster  was  presumably  eating  his 
evening  meal  in  peace  in  the  snug  little 
cottage  behind  the  shrubbery,  and  The 
Hopper  was  aware  of  no  sound  reason 
why  he  should  not  seize  the  vehicle  and 
further  widen  the  distance  between  him- 
10 


(ft  (Rti?tt0i£fe  ^anfa  Cfau* 

self  and  a  suspicious-looking  gentleman 
he  had  observed  on  the  New  Haven  local. 

The  Hopper's  conscience  was  not  alto- 
gether at  ease,  as  he  had,  that  afternoon, 
possesse'd  himself  of  a  bill-book  that  was 
protruding  from  the  breast-pocket  of  a 
dignified  citizen  whose  strap  he  had 
shared  in  a  crowded  subway  train.  Hav- 
ing foresworn  crime  as  a  means  of  liveli- 
hood, The  Hopper  was  chagrined  that  he 
had  suffered  himself  to  be  beguiled  into 
stealing  by  the  mere  propinquity  of  a 
piece  of  red  leather.  He  was  angry  at  the 
world  as  well  as  himself.  People  should 
not  go  about  with  bill-books  sticking  out 
of  their  pockets;  it  was  unfair  and  unjust 
to  those  weak  members  of  the  human 
race  who  yield  readily  to  temptation. 

He  had  agreed  with  Mary  when  she 
married  him  and  the  chicken  farm  that 
11 


(Rtwtrifife  ^anta 

they  would  respect  the  Ten  Command- 
ments and  all  statutory  laws,  State  and 
Federal,  and  he  was  painfully  conscious 
that  when  he  confessed  his  sin  she  would 
deal  severely  with  him.  Even  Humpy, 
now  enjoying  a  peace  that  he  had  rarely 
known  outside  the  walls  of  prison,  even 
Humpy  would  be  bitter.  The  thought  that 
ne  was  again  among  the  hunted  would 
depress  Mary  and  Humpy,  and  he  knew 
that  their  harshness  would  be  intensi- 
fied because  of  his  violation  of  the  un- 
written law  of  the  underworld  in  resort- 
ing to  purse-lifting,  an  infringement  upon 
a  branch  of  felony  despicable  and  greatly 
inferior  in  dignity  to  safe-blowing. 

These  reflections  spurred  The  Hopper 

to  action,  for  the  sooner  he  reached  home 

the  more  quickly  he  could  explain  his 

protracted  stay  in  New  York  (to  which 

12 


(ft  (Rmtetftfe  ^anfa  Cfau* 

metropolis  he  had  repaired  in  the  hope 
of  making  a  better  price  for  eggs  with 
the  commission  merchants  who  handled 
his  products),  submit  himself  to  Mary's 
chastisement,  and  promise  to  sin  no  more. 
By  returning  on  Christmas  Eve,  of  all 
times,  again  a  fugitive,  he  knew  that  he 
would  merit  the  unsparing  condemnation 
that  Mary  and  Humpy  would  visit  upon 
him.  It  was  possible,  it  was  even  quite 
likely,  that  the  short,  stocky  gentleman 
he  had  seen  on  the  New  Haven  local  was 
not  a  "bull"  —  not  really  a  detective 
who  had  observed  the  little  transaction 
in  the  subway;  but  the  very  uncertainty 
annoyed  The  Hopper.  In  his  happy  and 
profitable  year  at  Happy  Hill  Farm  he 
had  learned  to  prize  his  personal  comfort, 
and  he  was  humiliated  to  find  that  he  had 
been  frightened  into  leaving  the  train  at 
13 


(ft  (Rmrrifife 

Bansford  to  continue  his  journey  afoot, 
and  merely  because  a  man  had  looked  at 
him  a  little  queerly. 

Any  Christmas  spirit  that  had  taken 
root  in  The  Hopper's  soul  had  been  dis- 
turbed, not  to  say  seriously  threatened 
with  extinction,  by  the  untoward  occur- 
rences of  the  afternoon. 


II 


II 

THE  Hopper  waited  for  a  limousine  to 
pass  and  then  crawled  out  of  his  hiding- 
place,  jumped  into  the  roadster,  and  was 
at  once  in  motion.  He  glanced  back,  fear- 
ing that  the  owner  might  have  heard  his 
departure,  and  then,  satisfied  of  his  im- 
mediate security,  negotiated  a  difficult 
turn  in  the  road  and  settled  himself  with 
a  feeling  of  relief  to  careful  but  expeditious 
flight.  It  was  at  this  moment,  when  he 
had  urged  the  car  to  its  highest  speed, 
that  a  noise  startled  him  —  an  amazing 
little  chirrupy  sound  which  corresponded 
17 


CCau0 

to  none  of  the  familiar  forewarnings  of 
engine  trouble.  With  his  eyes  to  the  front 
he  listened  for  a  repetition  of  the  sound. 
It  rose  again  —  it  was  like  a  perplexing 
cheep  and  chirrup,  changing  to  a  chortle 
of  glee. 

' '  Goo-goo !  Goo-goo-goo ! ' ' 

The  car  was  skimming  a  dark  stretch 
of  road  and  a  superstitious  awe  fell  upon 
The  Hopper.  Murder,  he  gratefully  re- 
membered, had  never  been  among  his 
crimes,  though  he  had  once  winged  a 
too-inquisitive  policeman  in  Kansas  City. 
He  glanced  over  his  shoulder,  but  saw  no 
pursuing  ghost  in  the  snowy  highway; 
then,  looking  down  apprehensively,  he 
detected  on  the  seat  beside  him  what 
appeared  to  be  an  animate  bundle,  and, 
prompted  by  a  louder  "goo-goo,'*  he  put 
out  his  hand.  His  fingers  touched  some- 
18 


(Rmmfilt 

thing  warm  and  soft  and  were  promptly 
seized  and  held  by  Something. 

The  Hopper  snatched  his  hand  free  of 
the  tentacles  of  the  unknown  and  shook 
it  violently.  The  nature  of  the  Something 
troubled  him.  He  renewed  his  experi- 
ments, steering  with  his  left  hand  and 
exposing  the  right  to  what  now  seemed  to 
be  the  grasp  of  two  very  small  mittened 
hands. 

"  Goo-goo !  Goody ;  teep  wunnin' ! " 

' '  A  kid ! ' '   The  Hopper  gasped. 

That  he  had  eloped  with  a  child  was 
the  blackest  of  the  day's  calamities.  He 
experienced  a  strange  sinking  feeling  in 
the  stomach.  In  moments  of  apprehen- 
sion a  crook's  thoughts  run  naturally  into 
periods  of  penal  servitude,  and  the  pun- 
ishment for  kidnaping,  The  Hopper  re- 
called, was  severe.  He  stopped  the  car 
19 


(ft  (Rfttritfife  ^anfa  Cfau* 

and  inspected  his  unwelcome  fellow  pas- 
senger by  the  light  of  matches.  Two  big 
blue  eyes  stared  at  him  from  a  hood  and 
two  mittens  were  poked  into  his  face. 
Two  small  feet,  wrapped  tightly  in  a 
blanket,  kicked  at  him  energetically. 
"Detup!  Mate  um  skedaddle!" 
Obedient  to  this  command  The  Hopper 
made  the  car  skedaddle,  but  superstitious 
dread  settled  upon  him  more  heavily. 
He  was  satisfied  now  that  from  the  mo- 
ment he  transferred  the  strap-hanger's 
bill-book  to  his  own  pocket  he  had  been 
hoodooed.  Only  a  jinx  of  the  most  ma- 
levolent type  could  have  prompted  his 
hurried  exit  from  a  train  to  dodge  an 
imaginary  "bull."  Only  the  blackest  of 
evil  spirits  could  be  responsible  for  this 
involuntary  kidnaping! 

"  Mate  um  wun !  Mate  um  'ippity  stip ! " 
20 


The  mittened  hands  reached  for  the 
wheel  at  this  juncture  and  an  unlooked- 
for  "  jippity  skip"  precipitated  the  young 
passenger  into  The  Hopper's  lap. 

This  mishap  was  attended  with  the 
jolliest  baby  laughter.  Gently  but  with 
much  firmness  The  Hopper  restored  the 
youngster  to  an  upright  position  and 
supported  him  until  sure  he  was  able  to 
sustain  himself. 

"Ye  better  set  still,  little  feller,"  he 
admonished. 

The  little  feller  seemed  in  no  wise  as- 
tonished to  find  himself  abroad  with  a 
perfect  stranger  and  his  courage  and  good 
cheer  were  not  lost  upon  The  Hopper. 
He  wanted  to  be  severe,  to  vent  his  rage 
for  the  day's  calamities  upon  the  only 
human  being  within  range,  but  in  spite  of 
himself  he  felt  no  animosity  toward  the 
21 


(Rtwrrifife  ^anfa  Cfau* 

friendly  little  bundle  of  humanity  beside 
him.  Still,  he  had  stolen  a  baby  and  it  was 
incumbent  upon  him  to  free  himself  at 
once  of  the  appalling  burden ;  but  a  baby 
is  not  so  easily  disposed  of.  He  could  not, 
without  seriously  imperiling  his  liberty, 
return  to  the  cottage.  It  was  the  rule  of 
house-breakers,  he  recalled,  to  avoid  ba- 
bies. He  had  heard  it  said  by  burglars 
of  wide  experience  and  unquestioned  wis- 
dom that  babies  were  the  most  danger- 
ous of  all  burglar  alarms.  All  things  con- 
sidered, kidnaping  and  automobile  theft 
were  not  a  happy  combination  with  which 
to  appear  before  a  criminal  court.  The 
Hopper  was  vexed  because  the  child  did 
not  cry;  if  he  had  shown  a  bad  disposi- 
tion The  Hopper  might  have  abandoned 
him ;  but  the  youngster  was  the  cheeriest 
and  most  agreeable  of  traveling  compan- 

22 


Cfau* 

ions.  Indeed,  The  Hopper's  spirits  rose 
under  his  continued  "goo-gooing"  and 
chirruping. 

"Nice  little  Shaver!"  he  said,  patting 
the  child's  knees. 

Little  Shaver  was  so  pleased  by  this 
friendly  demonstration  that  he  threw  up 
his  arms  in  an  effort  to  embrace  The 
Hopper. 

"Bil-lee,"  he  gurgled  delightedly. 

The  Hopper  was  so  astonished  at  being 
addressed  in  his  own  lawful  name  by  a 
strange  baby  that  he  barely  averted  a 
collision  with  a  passing  motor  truck.  It 
was  unbelievable  that  the  baby  really 
knew  his  name,  but  perhaps  it  was  a  good 
omen  that  he  had  hit  upon  it.  The  Hop- 
per's resentment  against  the  dark  fate 
that  seemed  to  pursue  him  vanished. 
Even  though  he  had  stolen  a  baby,  it  was 
23 


a  merry,  brave  little  baby  who  did  n't 
mind  at  all  being  run  away  with !  He  dis- 
missed the  thought  of  planting  the  little 
shaver  at  a  door,  ringing  the  bell  and 
running  away ;  this  was  no  way  to  treat  a 
friendly  child  that  had  done  him  no  in- 
jury, and  The  Hopper  highly  resolved  to 
do  the  square  thing  by  the  youngster  even 
at  personal  inconvenience  and  risk. 

The  snow  was  now  falling  in  generous 
Christmasy  flakes,  and  the  high  speed 
the  car  had  again  attained  was  evidently 
deeply  gratifying  to  the  young  person, 
whose  reckless  tumbling  about  made  it 
necessary  for  The  Hopper  to  keep  a  hand 
on  him. 

"Steady,  little  un;  steady!"  The  Hop- 
per kept  mumbling. 

His  wits  were  busy   trying   to   devise 
some  means  of  getting  rid- of  the  young- 
24 


(ft  (Kmmfife  ^anfo  Cfau* 

ster  without  exposing  himself  to  the  dan- 
ger of  arrest.  By  this  time  some  one  was 
undoubtedly  busily  engaged  in  searching 
for  both  baby  and  car;  the  police  far  and 
near  would  be  notified,  and  would  be  on 
the  lookout  for  a  smart  roadster  contain- 
ing a  stolen  child. 

"Merry  Christmas!"  a  boy  shouted 
from  a  farm  gate. 

"M'y  Kwismus!"  piped  Shaver. 

The  Hopper  decided  to  run  the  machine 
home  and  there  ponder  the  disposition 
of  his  blithe  companion  with  the  care  the 
unusual  circumstances  demanded. 

"Urry  up;  me's  goin'  'ome  to  me's 
gwanpa's  kwismus  t'ee!" 

"Right  ye  be,  little  un;  right  ye  be!" 
affirmed  The  Hopper. 

The  youngster  was  evidently  blessed 
with  a  sanguine  and  confiding  nature. 
25 


(ft  (Rmwtfift  ^anfa  CCau0 

His  reference  to  his  grandfather's  Christ- 
mas tree  impinged  sharply  upon  The  Hop- 
per's conscience.  Christmas  had  never 
figured  very  prominently  in  his  scheme 
of  life.  About  the  only  Christmases  that 
he  recalled  with  any  pleasure  were  those 
that  he  had  spent  in  prison,  and  those 
were  marked  only  by  Christmas  dinners 
varying  with  the  generosity  of  a  series 
of  wardens. 

But  Shaver  was  entitled  to  all  the  joys 
of  Christmas,  and  The  Hopper  had  no  de- 
sire to  deprive  him  of  them. 

"Keep  a-larfin',  Shaver,  keep  a-larfin'," 
said  the  Hopper.  "Ole  Hop  ain't  a-goin' 
to  hurt  ye!" 

The  Hopper,  feeling  his  way  cautiously 

round  the  fringes  of  New  Haven,  arrived 

presently  at  Happy  Hill  Farm,  where  he 

ran  the  car  in  among  the  chicken  sheds 

20 


(Rmmfife 

behind  the  cottage  and  carefully  extin- 
guished the  lights. 

"Now,  Shaver,  out  ye  come!" 
Whereupon  Shaver  obediently  jumped 
into  his  arms. 


Ill 


Ill 

THE  Hopper  knocked  twice  at  the  back 
door,  waited  an  instant,  and  knocked 
again.  As  he  completed  the  signal  the 
door  was  opened  guardedly.  A  man  and 
woman  surveyed  him  in  hostile  silence 
as  he  pushed  past  them,  kicked  the 
door  shut,  and  deposited  the  blinking 
child  on  the  kitchen  table.  Humpy,  the 
one-eyed,  jumped  to  the  windows  and 
jammed  the  green  shades  close  into  the 
frames.  The  woman  scowlingly  waited 
for  the  head  of  the  house  to  explain  him- 
self, and  this,  with  the  perversity  of  one 
31 


who  knows  the  dramatic  value  of  sus- 
pense, he  was  in  no  haste  to  do. 

"Well,"  Mary  questioned  sharply. 
"What  ye  got  there,  Bill?" 

The  Hopper  was  regarding  Shaver  with 
a  grin  of  benevolent  satisfaction.  The 
youngster  had  seized  a  bottle  of  catsup 
and  was  making  heroic  efforts  to  raise  it 
to  his  mouth,  and  the  Hopper  was  in- 
tensely tickled  by  Shaver's  efforts  to 
swallow  the  bottle.  Mrs.  Stevens,  alias 
Weeping  Mary,  was  not  amused,  and  her 
husband's  enjoyment  of  the  child's  antics 
irritated  her. 

"Come  out  with  ut,  Bill!"  she  com- 
manded, seizing  the  bottle.  "What  ye 
been  doin'?" 

Shaver's  big  blue  eyes  expressed  sur- 
prise and  displeasure  at  being  deprived  of 
his  plaything,  but  he  recovered  quickly 
32 


anfo  Cfau* 

and  reached  for  a  plate  with  which  he 
began  thumping  the  table. 

"Out  with  ut,  Hop!"  snapped  Humpy 
nervously.  "No thin'  wuz  said  about 
kidnapin',  an'  I  don't  stand  for  ut!" 

"When  I  heard  the  machine  comin'  in 
the  yard  I  knowed  somethin'  was  wrong 
an'  I  guess  it  could  n't  be  no  worse," 
added  Mary,  beginning  to  cry.  '  You 
had  n't  no  right  to  do  ut,  Bill.  Hookin'  a 
buzz-buzz  an'  a  kid  an'  when  we  wuz 
playin'  the  white  card!  You  ought  t'  'a' 
told  me,  Bill,  what  ye  went  to  town  fer, 
an'  it  bein'  Christmas,  an'  all." 

That  he  should  have  chosen  for  his  fall 
the  Christmas  season  of  all  times  was 
reprehensible,  a  fact  which  Mary  and 
Humpy  impressed  upon  him  in  the  strong- 
est terms.  The  Hopper  was  fully  aware  of 
the  inopportuneness  of  his  transgressions, 
33 


Cfau* 

but  not  to  the  point  of  encouraging  his 
wife  to  abuse  him. 

As  he  clumsily  tried  to  unfasten  Shav- 
er's hood,  Mary  pushed  him  aside  and 
with  shaking  fingers  removed  the  child's 
wraps.  Shaver's  cheeks  were  rosy  from 
his  drive  through  the  cold;  he  was  a 
plump,  healthy  little  shaver  and  The 
Hopper  viewed  him  with  intense  pride. 
Mary  held  the  hood  and  coat  to  the  light 
and  inspected  them  with  a  sophisticated 
eye.  They  were  of  excellent  quality  and 
workmanship,  and  she  shook  her  head 
and  sighed  deeply  as  she  placed  them 
carefully  on  a  chair. 

"  It  ain't  on  the  square,  Hop,"  protested 
Humpy,  whose  lone  eye  expressed  the 
most  poignant  sorrow  at  The  Hopper's 
derelictions.  Humpy  was  tall  and  lean, 
with  a  thin,  many-lined  face.  He  was  an 
34 


ill-favored  person  at  best,  and  his  habit 
of  turning  his  head  constantly  as  though 
to  compel  his  single  eye  to  perform  double 
service  gave  one  an  impression  of  restless 
watchfulness. 

"Cute  little  Shaver,  ain't  'e?  Give 
Shaver  somethin'  to  eat,  Mary.  I  guess 
milk '11  be  the  right  ticket  considerin'  th' 
size  of  'im.  How  ole  you  make  'im?  Not 
more'n  three,  I  reckon?" 

"  Two.   He  ain't  more  'n  two,  that  kid." 

"A  nice  little  feller;  you're  a  cute  un, 
ain't  ye,  Shaver?" 

Shaver  nodded  his  head  solemnly. 
Having  wearied  of  playing  with  the  plate 
he  gravely  inspected  the  trio;  found  some- 
thing amusing  in  Humpy's  bizarre  coun- 
tenance and  laughed  merrily.  Finding  no 
response  to  his  friendly  overtures  he  ap- 
pealed to  Mary. 

35 


Cfau0 

"Me  wants  me's  paw-widge,"  he  an- 
nounced. 

"Porridge,"  interpreted  Humpy  with 
the  air  of  one  whose  superior  breeding 
makes  him  the  proper  arbiter  of  the 
speech  of  children  of  high  social  station. 
Whereupon  Shaver  appreciatively  poked 
his  forefinger  into  Humpy's  surviving 
optic. 

"I'll  see  what  I  got,"  muttered  Mary. 
"What  ye  used  t'  eatin'  for  supper, 
honey?" 

The  "honey"  was  a  concession,  and 
The  Hopper,  who  was  giving  Shaver  his 
watch  to  play  with,  bent  a  commendatory 
glance  upon  his  spouse. 

"Go  on  an'  tell  us  what  ye  done,"  said 
Mary,  doggedly  busying  herself  about  the 
stove. 

The  Hopper  drew  a  chair  to  the  table 
36 


(ft  (ResemfiCe  ^anfa  Cfau* 

to  be  within  reach  of  Shaver  and  related 
succinctly  his  day's  adventures. 

"A  dip!"  moaned  Mary  as  he  de- 
scribed the  seizure  of  the  purse  in  the 
subway. 

"  You  had  n't  no  right  to  do  ut,  Hop!" 
bleated  Humpy,  who  had  tipped  his  chair 
against  the  wall  and  was  sucking  a  cold 
pipe.  And  then,  professional  curiosity 
overmastering  his  shocked  conscience,  he 
added:  "What'd  she  measure,  Hop?" 

The  Hopper  grinned. 

"Flubbed!  Nothin'  but  papers,"  he 
confessed  ruefully. 

Mary  and  Humpy  expressed  their  in- 
dignation and  contempt  in  unequivocal 
terms,  which  they  repeated  after  he  told 
of  the  suspected  "bull"  whose  presence 
on  the  local  had  so  alarmed  him.  A  frank 
description  of  his  flight  and  of  his  seizure 
37 


Cfau* 

of  the  roadster  only  added  to  their  bitter- 
ness. 

Humpy  rose  and  paced  the  floor  with 
the  quick,  short  stride  of  men  habituated 
to  narrow  spaces.  The  Hopper  watched 
the  telltale  step  so  disagreeably  reminis- 
cent of  evil  times  and  shrugged  his  shoul- 
ders impatiently. 

"Set  down,  Hump;  ye  make  me  nerv- 
ous. I  got  thinkin'  to  do." 

"  Ye'd  better  be  quick  about  doin'  ut!" 
Humpy  snorted  with  an  oath. 

"Cut  the  cussin'!"  The  Hopper  ad- 
monished sharply.  Since  his  retirement  to 
private  life  he  had  sought  diligently  to 
free  his  speech  of  profanity  and  thieves' 
slang,  as  not  only  unbecoming  in  a  re- 
spectable chicken  farmer,  but  likely  to 
arouse  suspicions  as  to  his  origin  and 
previous  condition  of  servitude.  "Can't 
38 


ye  see  Shaver  ain't  use  to  ut?  Shaver's  a 
little  gent;  he's  a  reg'ler  little  juke;  that's 
wot  Shaver  is." 

"The  more  'way  up  he  is  the  worse  fer 
us,"  whimpered  Humpy.  "It's  kidnapin', 
that's  wot  ut  is!" 

"That's  wot  it  ain't"  declared  The 
Hopper,  averting  a  calamity  to  his  watch, 
which  Shaver  was  swinging  by  its  chain. 
"He  was  took  by  accident  I  tell  ye!  I'm 
goin'  to  take  Shaver  back  to  his  ma  — 
ain't  I,  Shaver?" 

"Take  'im  back!"  echoed  Mary. 

Humpy  crumpled  up  in  his  chair  at 
this  new  evidence  of  The  Hopper's  insan- 
ity. 

"  I  'm  goin'  to  make  a  Chris'mas  present 
o'  Shaver  to  his  ma,"  reaffirmed  The  Hop- 
per, pinching  the  nearer  ruddy  cheek  of 
the  merry,  contented  guest. 
39 


(ft  (Rtittritfife 

Shaver  kicked  The  Hopper  in  the  stom- 
ach and  emitted  a  chortle  expressive  of 
unshakable  confidence  in  The  Hopper's 
ability  to  restore  him  to  his  lawful  own- 
ers. This  confidence  was  not,  however, 
manifested  toward  Mary,  who  had  pre- 
pared with  care  the  only  cereal  her  pan- 
try afforded,  and  now  approached  Shaver, 
bowl  and  spoon  in  hand.  Shaver,  taken 
by  surprise,  inspected  his  supper  with 
disdain  and  spurned  it  with  a  vigor  that 
sent  the  spoon  rattling  across  the  floor. 

"Me  wants  me's  paw-widge  bowl! 
Me  wants  me's  own  paw-widge  bowl!" 

V 

he  screamed. 

Mary  expostulated ;  Humpy  offered  ad- 
vice as  to  the  best  manner  of  dealing 
with  the  refractory  Shaver,  who  gave 
further  expression  to  his  resentment  by 
throwing  The  Hopper's  watch  with  vio- 
40 


lence  against  the  wall.  That  the  table- 
service  of  The  Hopper's  establishment 
was  not  to  Shaver's  liking  was  manifested 
in  repeated  rejections  of  the  plain  white 
bowl  in  which  Mary  offered  the  porridge. 
He  demanded  his  very  own  porridge  bowl 
with  the  increasing  vehemence  of  one  who 
is  willing  to  starve  rather  than  accept  so 
palpable  a  substitute.  He  threw  himself 
back  on  the  table  and  lay  there  kicking 
and  crying.  Other  needs  now  occurred  to 
Shaver:  he  wanted  his  papa;  he  wanted 
his  mamma;  he  wanted  to  go  to  his 
gwan'pa's.  He  clamored  for  Santa  Glaus 
and  numerous  Christmas  trees  which,  it 
seemed,  had  been  promised  him  at  the 
houses  of  his  kinsfolk.  It  was  amazing 
and  bewildering  that  the  heart  of  one  so 
young  could  desire  so  many  things  that 
were  not  immediately  attainable.  He  had 
41 


CCau* 

begun  to  suspect  that  he  was  among 
strangers  who  were  not  of  his  way  of  life, 
and  this  was  fraught  with  the  gravest 
danger. 

"They'll  hear  'im  hollerin'  in  China," 
wailed  the  pessimistic  Humpy,  running 
about  the  room  and  examining  the  fast- 
enings of  doors  and  windows.  "Folks 
goin'  along  the  road '11  hear  'im,  an'  it's 
terms  fer  the  whole  bunch!" 

The  Hopper  began  pacing  the  floor 
with  Shaver,  while  Humpy  and  Mary  de- 
nounced the  child  for  unreasonableness 
and  lack  of  discipline,  not  overlooking  the 
stupidity  and  criminal  carelessness  of  The 
Hopper  in  projecting  so  lawless  a  young- 
ster into  their  domestic  circle. 

"Twenty  years,  that's  wot  ut  is!" 
mourned  Humpy. 

"Ye  kin  get  the  chair  fer  kidnapm'," 
42 


(ft  (Rmwifife 

Mary  added  dolefully.   "Ye  gotta  get  'im 
out  o'  here,  Bill." 

Pleasant  predictions  of  a  long  prison 
term  with  capital  punishment  as  the 
happy  alternative  failed  to  disturb  The 
Hopper.  To  their  surprise  and  somewhat 
to  their  shame  he  won  the  Shaver  to  a 
tractable  humor.  There  was  nothing  in 
The  Hopper's  known  past  to  justify  any 
expectation  that  he  could  quiet  a  crying 
baby,  and  yet  Shaver  with  a  child's  un- 
erring instinct  realized  that  The  Hopper 
meant  to  be  kind.  He  patted  The  Hop- 
per's face  with  one  fat  little  paw,  chok- 
ingly declaring  that  he  was  hungry. 

"'Course  Shaver's  hungry;  an'  Shav- 
er's goin'  to  eat  nice  porridge  Aunt 
Mary  made  fer  'im.  Shaver's  goin'  to 
have  'is  own  porridge  bowl  to-morry  — 
yes,  sir-ee,  oo  is,  little  Shaver!" 
43 


(Rmwifife  ^anfo  CCau* 

Restored  to  the  table,  Shaver  opened 
his  mouth  in  obedience  to  The  Hopper's 
patient  pleading  and  swallowed  a  spoon- 
ful of  the  mush,  Humpy  holding  the  bowl 
out  of  sight  in  tactful  deference  to  the 
child's  delicate  aesthetic  sensibilities.  A 
tumbler  of  milk  was  sipped  with  grateful 
gasps. 

The  Hopper  grinned,  proud  of  his  suc- 
cess, while  Mary  and  Humpy  viewed  his 
efforts  with  somewhat  grudging  admira- 
tion, and  waited  patiently  until  The  Hop- 
per took  the  wholly  surfeited  Shaver  in  his 
arms  and  began  pacing  the  floor,  humming 
softly.  In  normal  circumstances  The  Hop- 
per was  not  musical,  and  Humpy  and  Mary 
exchanged  looks  which,  when  interpreted, 
pointed  to  nothing  less  than  a  belief  that 
the  owner  of  Happy  Hill  Farm  was  bereft 
of  his  senses.  There  was  some  question  as 

44 


THE  HOPPER  GRINNED,  PROUD  OF   HIS  SUCCESS,  WHICH   MARY 
AND   HUMPY  VIEWED  WITH  GRUDGING  ADMIRATION 


(ft  (Heusmfife 

to  whether  Shaver  should  be  undressed. 
Mary  discouraged  the  idea  and  Humpy 
took  a  like  view. 

"Ye  gotta  chuck  'im  quick;  that's 
what  ye  gotta  do,"  said  Mary  hoarsely. 
"We  don't  want  'im  sleepin'  here." 

Whereupon  The  Hopper  demonstrated 
his  entire  independence  by  carrying  the 
Shaver  to  Humpy's  bed  and  partially 
undressing  him.  While  this  was  in  prog- 
ress, Shaver  suddenly  opened  his  eyes 
wide  and  raising  one  foot  until  it  approxi- 
mated the  perpendicular,  reached  for  it 
with  his  chubby  hands. 

"Sant'  Claus  comin';  m'y  Kwismus!" 

"Jes'  listen  to  Shaver!"  chuckled  The 
Hopper.  "'Course  Santy  is  comin,'  an' 
we're  goin'  to  hang  up  Shaver's  stockin', 
ain't  we,  Shaver?" 

He  pinned  both  stockings  to  the  foot- 
45 


board  of  Humpy's  bed.  By  the  time  this 
was  accomplished  under  the  hostile  eyes 
of  Mary  and  Humpy,  Shaver  slept  the 
sleep  of  the  innocent. 


IV 


IV 

THEY  watched  the  child  in  silence  for  a 
few  minutes  and  then  Mary  detached  a 
gold  locket  from  his  neck  and  bore  it  to 
the  kitchen  for  examination. 

''Ye  gotta  move  quick,  Hop,"  Humpy 
urged.  "The  white  card's  what  we  wuz 
all  goin'  to  play.  We  wuz  fixed  nice  here, 
an'  things  goin'  easy;  an'  the  yard  full 
o'  br'ilers.  I  don't  want  to  do  no  more 
time.  I'm  an  ole  man,  Hop." 

"Cut  ut!"  ordered  The  Hopper,  taking 
the  locket  from  Mary  and  weighing  it 
critically  in  his  hand.  They  bent  over  him 
49 


as  he  scrutinized  the  face  on  which  was 
inscribed:  — 

Roger  Livingston  Talbot 
June  7j,  1913 

"Lemme  see;  he's  two  an'  a  harf.  Ye 
purty  nigh  guessed  'im  right,  Mary." 

The  sight  of  the  gold  trinket,  the  proba- 
bility that  the  Shaver  belonged  to  a  fam- 
ily of  wealth,  proved  disturbing  to  Hum- 
py's late  protestations  of  virtue. 

"They'd  be  a  heap  o'  kale  in  ut,  Hop. 
His  folks  is  rich,  I  reckon.  Ef  we  wuz  n't 
playin'  the  white  card  — " 

Ignoring  this  shocking  evidence  of 
Humpy's  moral  instability,  The  Hopper 
became  lost  in  reverie,  meditatively  draw- 
ing at  his  pipe. 

"We  ain't  never  goin'  to  quit  playin'  ut 
square,"  he  announced,  to  Mary's  mani- 
50 


(ft  (TU&ttflMt  ^anto  Cfau* 

fest  relief.  "  I  had  n't  ought  t'  'a'  done  th' 
dippin'.  It  were  a  mistake.  My  ole  head 
wuz  n't  workin'  right  er  I  would  n't  'a' 
slipped.  But  ye  need  n't  jump  on  me  no 
more." 

"Wot  ye  goin'  to  do  with  that  kid?  Ye 
tell  me  that!"  demanded  Mary,  unwilling 
too  readily  to  accept  The  Hopper's  re- 
pentance at  face  value. 

"I'm  goin'  to  take  'im  to  ris  folks, 
that's  wot  I'm  goin'  to  do  with  '£m,"  an- 
nounced The  Hopper. 

"Yer  crazy  —  yer  plum'  crazy!"  cried 
Humpy,  slapping  his  knees  excitedly. 
"Ye  kin  take  'im  to  an  orphant  asylum 
an'  tell  um  ye  found  'im  in  that  machine 
ye  lifted.  And  mebbe  ye  '11  git  by  with  ut 
an'  mebbe  ye  won't,  but  ye  gotta  keep 
rpe  out  of  ut!" 

"  I  found  the  machine  in  th'  road,  right 
51 


(ft  (TU&cmfifc 

here  by  th'  house;  an'  th'  kid  was  in  ut  all 
by  hisself.  An'  bein'  humin  an'  respecti- 
ble  I  brought  'im  in  to  keep  'im  from 
freezin'  t'  death,"  said  The  Hopper,  as 
though  repeating  lines  he  was  committing 
to  memory.  "They  ain't  nobody  can  say 
as  I  did  n't.  Ef  I  git  pinched,  that's  my 
spiel  to  th'  cops.  It  ain't  kidnapin';  it's 
life-savin',  that's  wot  ut  is!  I'm  a-goin' 
back  an'  have  a  look  at  that  place  where 
I  got  'im.  Kind  o'  queer  they  left  the 
kid  out  there  in  the  buzz-wagon;  mighty 
queer,  now's  I  think  of  ut.  Little  house 
back  from  the  road;  lots  o'  trees  an* 
bushes  in  front.  Did  n't  seem  to  be  no 
lights.  He  keeps  talkin'  about  Chris' mas 
at  his  grandpa's.  Folks  must  'a'  been 
goin'  to  take  th'  kid  somewheres  fer 
Chris'mas.  I  guess  it  '11  throw  a  skeer  into 
'em  to  find  him  up  an'  gone." 
52 


Cfau* 

"They's  rich,  an'  all  the  big  bulls  '11  be 
lookin'  fer  'im;  ye'd  better  'phone  the 
New  Haven  cops  ye've  picked  'im  up. 
Then  they  '11  come  out,  an'  yer  spiel  about 
findin'  'im'll  sound  easy  an'  sensible  like." 

The  Hopper,  puffing  his  pipe  philosoph- 
ically, paid  no  heed  to  Humpy's  sugges- 
tion even  when  supported  warmly  by 
Mary. 

"I  gotta  find  some  way  o'  puttin'  th' 
kid  back  without  seein'  no  cops.  I  '11  jes' 
take  a  sneak  back  an'  have  a  look  at  th' 
place,"  said  The  Hopper.  "I  ain't  goin' 
to  turn  Shaver  over  to  no  cops.  Ye  can't 
take  no  chances  with  'em.  They  don't 
know  nothin'  about  us  bein*  here,  but 
they  ain't  fools,  an'  I  ain't  goin'  to  give 
none  o'  'em  a  squint  at  me!" 

He  defended  his  plan  against  a  joint 
attack  by  Mary  and  Humpy,  who  saw  in 
53 


it  only  further  proof  of  his  tottering  rea- 
son. He  was  obliged  to  tell  them  in  harsh 
terms  to  be  quiet,  and  he  added  to  their 
rage  by  the  deliberation  with  which  he 
made  his  preparations  to  leave. 

He  opened  the  door  of  a  clock  and  drew 
out  a  revolver  which  he  examined  care- 
fully and  thrust  into  his  pocket.  Mary 
groaned;  Humpy  beat  the  air  in  impotent 
despair.  The  Hopper  possessed  himself 
also  of  a  jimmy  and  an  electric  lamp. 
The  latter  he  flashed  upon  the  face  of  the 
sleeping  Shaver,  who  turned  restlessly  for 
a  moment  and  then  lay  still  again.  He 
smoothed  the  coverlet  over  the  tiny  form, 
while  Mary  and  Humpy  huddled  in  the 
doorway.  Mary  wept;  Humpy  was  awed 
into  silence  by  his  old  friend's  perversity. 
For  years  he  had  admired  The  Hopper's 
cleverness,  his  genius  for  extricating  him- 
54 


(ReoetBtfifc 

self  from  difficulties;  he  was  deeply  shaken 
to  think  that  one  who  had  stood  so  high 
in  one  of  the  most  exacting  of  professions 
should  have  fallen  so  low.  As  The  Hop- 
per imperturbably  buttoned  his  coat  and 
walked  toward  the  door,  Humpy  set  his 
back  against  it  in  a  last  attempt  to  save 
his  friend  from  his  own  fool  hardiness. 

"Ef  anybody  turns  up  here  an*  asks 
for  th'  kid,  ye  kin  tell  'em  wot  I  said.  We 
finds  'im  in  th'  road  right  here  by  the 
farm  when  we're  doin'  th'  night  chores 
an'  takes  'im  in  t'  keep  'im  from  freezin'. 
Ye '11  have  th'  machine  an'  kid  here  to 
show  'em.  An'  as  fer  me,  I  'm  off  lookin' 
fer  his  folks." 

Mary  buried  her  face  in  her  apron  and 
wept  despairingly.  The  Hopper,  noting 
for  the  first  time  that  Humpy  was  guard- 
ing the  door,  roughly  pushed  him  aside 
55 


(ft  (RwewUUt  ^anfa  Cfau* 

and  stood  for  a  moment  with  his  hand  on 
the  knob. 

"They's  things  wot  is,"  he  remarked 
with  a  last  attempt  to  justify  his  course, 
"an'  things  wot  ain't.  I  reckon  I  '11  take  a 
peek  at  that  place  an'  see  wot's  th'  best 
way  t'  shake  th'  kid.  Ye  can't  jes'  run  up  to 
a  house  in  a  machine  with  his  folks  all  set- 
tin'  round  cryin'  an'  cops  askin'  questions. 
Ye  got  to  do  some  plannin'  an'  thinkin'. 
I'm  goin'  t*  clean  ut  all  up  before  day- 
light, an'  ye  need  n't  worry  none  about  ut. 
Hop  ain't  worryin';  jes'  leave  ut  t'  Hop!" 

There  was  no  alternative  but  to  leave  it 
to  Hop,  and  they  stood  mute  as  he  went 
out  and  softly  closed  the  door. 


V 

THE  snow  had  ceased  and  the  stars  shone 
brightly  on  a  white  world  as  The  Hopper 
made  his  way  by  various  trolley  lines  to 
the  house  from  which  he  had  snatched 
Shaver.  On  a  New  Haven  car  he  debated 
the  prospects  of  more  snow  with  a  police- 
man who  seemed  oblivious  to  the  fact  that 
a  child  had  been  stolen  —  shamelessly  car- 
ried off  by  a  man  with  a  long  police  rec- 
ord. Merry  Christmas  passed  from  lip  to 
lip  as  if  all  creation  were  attuned  to  the 
note  of  love  and  peace,  and  crime  were  an 
undreamed-of  thing. 
59 


(ft  (Rmwttfe  ^anfa  Cfau* 

For  two  years  The  Hopper  had  led  an 
exemplary  life  and  he  was  keenly  alive 
now  to  the  joy  of  adventure.  His  lapses 
of  the  day  were  unfortunate;  he  thought 
of  them  with  regret  and  misgivings,  but 
he  was  zestful  for  whatever  the  unknown 
held  in  store  for  him.  Abroad  again  with 
a  pistol  in  his  pocket,  he  was  a  lawless 
being,  but  with  the  difference  that  he 
was  intent  now  upon  making  restitution, 
though  in  such  manner  as  would  give 
him  something  akin  to  the  old  thrill  that 
he  experienced  when  he  enjoyed  the  repu- 
tation of  being  one  of  the  most  skillful 
yeggs  in  the  country.  The  successful  thief 
is  of  necessity  an  imaginative  person;  he 
must  be  able  to  visualize  the  unseen  and 
to  deal  with  a  thousand  hidden  contin- 
gencies. At  best  the  chances  are  against 
him;  with  all  his  ingenuity  the  broad, 
60 


heavy  hand  of  the  law  is  likely  at  any 
moment  to  close  upon  him  from  some 
unexpected  quarter.  The  Hopper  knew 
this,  and  knew,  too,  that  in  yielding  to 
the  exhilaration  of  the  hour  he  was  likely 
to  come  to  grief.  Justice  has  a  long  mem- 
ory, and  if  he  again  made  himself  the 
object  of  police  scrutiny  that  little  forty- 
thousand-dollar  affair  in  Maine  might  still 
be  fixed  upon  him. 

When  he  reached  the  house  from  whose 
gate  he  had  removed  the  roadster  with 
Shaver  attached,  he  studied  it  with 
the  eye  of  an  experienced  strategist.  No 
gleam  anywhere  published  the  presence 
of  frantic  parents  bewailing  the  loss  of  a 
baby.  The  cottage  lay  snugly  behind  its 
barrier  of  elms  and  shrubbery  as  though 
its  young  heir  had  not  vanished  into  the 
void.  The  Hopper  was  a  deliberating  be- 
et 


ing  and  he  gave  careful  weight  to  these 
circumstances  as  he  crept  round  the 
walk,  in  which  the  snow  lay  undisturbed, 
and  investigated  the  rear  of  the  premises. 
The  lattice  door  of  the  summer  kitchen 
opened  readily,  and,  after  satisfying 
himself  that  no  one  was  stirring  in  the 
lower  part  of  the  house,  he  pried  up  the 
sash  of  a  window  and  stepped  in.  The 
larder  was  well  stocked,  as  though  in 
preparation  for  a  Christmas  feast,  and  he 
passed  on  to  the  dining-room,  whose  ap- 
pointments spoke  for  good  taste  and  a 
degree  of  prosperity  in  the  householder. 

Cautious  flashes  of  his  lamp  disclosed 
on  the  table  a  hamper,  in  which  were 
packed  a  silver  cup,  plate,  and  bowl  which 
at  once  awoke  the  Hopper's  interest. 
Here  indubitably  was  proof  that  this  was 
the  home  of  Shaver,  now  sleeping  sweetly 

62 


(Remsifife  ^anfa  Cfau* 

in  Humpy's  bed,  and  this  was  the  porridge 
bowl  for  which  Shaver's  soul  had  yearned. 
If  Shaver  did  not  belong  to  the  house,  he 
had  at  least  been  a  visitor  there,  and  it 
struck  The  Hopper  as  a  reasonable  as- 
sumption that  Shaver  had  been  deposited 
in  the  roadster  while  his  lawful  guardians 
returned  to  the  cottage  for  the  hamper 
preparatory  to  an  excursion  of  some  sort. 
But  The  Hopper  groped  in  the  dark  for  an 
explanation  of  the  calmness  with  which 
the  householders  accepted  the  loss  of  the 
child.  It  was  not  in  human  nature  for  the 
parents  of  a  youngster  so  handsome  and 
in  every  way  so  delightful  as  Shaver  to 
permit  him  to  be  stolen  from  under  their 
very  noses  without  making  an  outcry. 
The  Hopper  examined  the  silver  pieces 
and  found  them  engraved  with  the 
name  borne  by  the  locket.  He  crept 
63 


(ft  (Rtwwtftfe  ^anto  Cfau* 

through  a  living-room  and  came  to  a 
Christmas  tree  —  the  smallest  of  Christ- 
mas trees.  Beside  it  lay  a  number  of 
packages  designed  clearly  for  none  other 
than  young  Roger  Livingston  Talbot. 

Housebreaking  is  a  very  different  busi- 
ness from  the  forcible  entry  of  country 
post-offices,  and  The  Hopper  was  nerv- 
ous. This  particular  house  seemed  ut- 
terly deserted.  He  stole  upstairs  and 
found  doors  open  and  a  disorder  indic- 
ative of  the  occupants'  hasty  departure. 
His  attention  was  arrested  by  a  small 
room  finished  in  white,  with  a  white 
enameled  bed,  and  other  furniture  to 
match.  A  generous  litter  of  toys  was  the 
last  proof  needed  to  establish  the  house 
as  Shaver's  true  domicile.  Indeed,  there 
was  every  indication  that  Shaver  was  the 
central  figure  of  this  home  of  whose 
64 


Cfau* 

charm  and  atmosphere  The  Hopper  was 
vaguely  sensible.  A  frieze  of  dancing  chil- 
dren and  water-color  sketches  of  Shaver's 
head,  dabbed  here  and  there  in  the  most 
unlooked-for  places,  hinted  at  an  artistic 
household.  This  impression  was  strength- 
ened when  The  Hopper,  bewildered  and 
baffled,  returned  to  the  lower  floor  and 
found  a  studio  opening  off  the  living- 
room.  The  Hopper  had  never  visited  a 
studio  before,  and,  satisfied  now  that  he 
was  the  sole  occupant  of  the  house,  he 
passed  about  shooting  his  light  upon  un- 
finished canvases,  pausing  finally  before 
an  easel  supporting  a  portrait  of  Shaver 
—  newly  finished,  he  discovered,  by  pok- 
ing his  finger  into  the  wet  paint.  Some- 
thing fell  to  the  floor  and  he  picked  up 
a  large  sheet  of  drawing-paper  on  which 
this  message  was  written  in  charcoal :  — 
65 


Six-titifty. 

Dear  Sweetheart:  — 

This  is  a  fine  trick  you  have  played  on  me,  you 
dear  girl !  I  Ve  been  expecting  you  back  all  after- 
noon. At  six  I  decided  that  you  were  going  to 
spend  the  night  with  your  infuriated  parent  and 
thought  I  'd  try  my  luck  with  mine !  I  put  Billie 
into  the  roadster  and,  leaving  him  there,  ran  over 
to  the  Flemings's  to  say  Merry  Christmas  and  tell 
'em  we  were  off  for  the  night.  They  kept  me  just 
a  minute  to  look  at  those  new  Jap  prints  Jim 's  so 
crazy  about,  and  while  I  was  gone  you  came  along 
and  skipped  with  Billie  and  the  car !  I  suppose  this 
means  that  you've  been  making  headway  with 
your  dad  and  want  to  try  the  effect  of  Billie's 
blandishments.  Good  luck!  But  you  might  have 
stopped  long  enough  to  tell  me  about  it!  How 
fine  it  would  be  if  everything  could  be  straight- 
ened out  for  Christmas!  Do  you  remember  the 
first  time  I  kissed  you  —  it  was  on  Christmas 
Eve  four  years  ago  at  the  Billings's  dance !  I  'm 
just  trolleying  out  to  father's  to  see  what  an 
evening  session  will  do.  I  '11  be  back  early  in  the 
morning. 

Love  always, 

ROGER. 
06 


Billie  was  undoubtedly  Shaver's  nick- 
name. This  delighted  The  Hopper.  That 
they  should  possess  the  same  name  ap- 
peared to  create  a  strong  bond  of  com- 
radeship. The  writer  of  the  note  was  pre- 
sumably the  child's  father  and  the  "  Dear 
Sweetheart"  the  youngster's  mother.  The 
Hopper  was  not  reassured  by  these  disclos- 
ures. The  return  of  Shaver  to  his  parents 
was  far  from  being  the  pleasant  little 
Christmas  Eve  adventure  he  had  imag- 
ined. He  had  only  the  lowest  opinion  of  a 
father  who  would,  on  a  winter  evening, 
carelessly  leave  his  baby  in  a  motor-car 
while  he  looked  at  pictures,  and  who,  find- 
ing both  motor  and  baby  gone,  would 
take  it  for  granted  that  the  baby's 
mother  had  run  off  with  them.  But  these 
people  wrere  artists,  and  artists,  The  Hop- 
per had  heard,  were  a  queer  breed,  sadly 
67 


^anfa  Cfaw 

lacking  in  common  sense.  He  tore  the 
note  into  strips  which  he  stuffed  into  his 
pocket. 

Depressed  by  the  impenetrable  wall  of 
mystery  along  which  he  was  groping,  he 
returned  to  the  living-room,  raised  one 
of  the  windows  and  unbolted  the  front 
door  to  make  sure  of  an  exit  in  case  these 
strange,  foolish  Talbots  should  unexpect- 
edly return.  The  shades  were  up  and  he 
shielded  his  light  carefully  with  his  cap  as 
he  passed  rapidly  about  the  room.  It  be- 
gan to  look  very  much  as  though  Shaver 
would  spend  Christmas  at  Happy  Hill 
Farm — a  possibility  that  had  not  figured 
in  The  Hopper's  calculations. 

Flashing  his  lamp  for  a  last  survey  a 

letter  propped  against  a  lamp  on  the  table 

arrested  his  eye.  He  dropped  to  the  floor 

and  crawled  into  a  corner  where  he  turned 

68 


his  light  upon  the  note  and  read,  not  with- 
out difficulty,  the  following:  — 

Seven  o'clock. 
Dear  Roger:  — 

I've  just  got  back  from  father's  where  I  spent 
the  last  three  hours  talking  over  our  troubles.  I 
did  n't  tell  you  I  was  going,  knowing  you  would 
think  it  foolish,  but  it  seemed  best,  dear,  and 
I  hope  you'll  forgive  me.  And  now  I  find  that 
you've  gone  off  with  Billie,  and  I'm  guessing 
that  you  've  gone  to  your  father's  to  see  what  you 
can  do.  I  'm  taking  the  trolley  into  New  Haven 
to  ask  Mamie  Palmer  about  that  cook  she 
thought  we  might  get,  and  if  possible  I  '11  bring 
the  girl  home  with  me.  Don't  trouble  about  me, 
as  I'll  be  perfectly  safe,  and,  as  you  know,  I 
rather  enjoy  prowling  around  at  night.  You'll 
certainly  get  back  before  I  do,  but  if  I'm  not 
here  don't  be  alarmed. 

We  are  so  happy  in  each  other,  dear,  and  if 
only  we  could  get  our  foolish  fathers  to  stop  hat- 
ing each  other,  how  beautiful  everything  would 
be !  And  we  could  all  have  such  a  merry,  merry 
Christmas ! 

MURIEL. 

69 


(ft  (RmrrfBfe 

The  Hopper's  acquaintance  with  the 
epistolary  art  was  the  slightest,  but  even 
to  a  mind  unfamiliar  with  this  branch  of 
literature  it  was  plain  that  Shaver's  par- 
ents were  involved  in  some  difficulty  that 
was  attributable,  not  to  any  lessening 
of  affection  between  them,  but  to  a  row 
of  some  sort  between  their  respective  fa- 
thers. Muriel,  running  into  the  house  to 
write  her  note,  had  failed  to  see  Roger's 
letter  in  the  studio,  and  this  was  very 
fortunate  for  The  Hopper;  but  Muriel 
might  return  at  any  moment,  and  it  would 
add  nothing  to  the  plausibility  of  the 
story  he  meant  to  tell  if  he  were  found  in 
the  house. 


VI 


VI 

ANXIOUS  and  dejected  at  the  increasing 
difficulties  that  confronted  him,  he  was 
moving  toward  the  door  when  a  light, 
buoyant  step  sounded  on  the  veranda.  In 
a  moment  the  living-room  lights  were 
switched  on  from  the  entry  and  a  woman 
called  out  sharply :  — 

"Stop  right  where  you  are  or  I'll 
shoot!" 

The  authoritative  voice  of  the  speaker, 

the  quickness  with  which  she  had  grasped 

the  situation  and   leveled   her  revolver, 

brought  The  Hopper  to  an  abrupt  halt  in 

73 


Cfau* 

the  middle  of  the  room,  where  he  fell  with 
a  discordant  crash  across  the  keyboard  of 
a  grand  piano.  He  turned,  cowering,  to 
confront  a  tall,  young  woman  in  a  long 
ulster  who  advanced  toward  him  slowly, 
but  with  every  mark  of  determination 
upon  her  face.  The  Hopper  stared  beyond 
the  gun,  held  in  a  very  steady  hand,  into 
a  pair  of  fearless  dark  eyes.  In  all  his  ex- 
periences he  had  never  been  cornered  by  a 
woman,  and  he  stood  gaping  at  his  captor 
in  astonishment.  She  was  a  very  pretty 
young  woman,  with  cheeks  that  still  had 
the  curve  of  youth,  but  with  a  chin  that 
spoke  for  much  firmness  of  character.  A 
fur  toque  perched  a  little  to  one  side  gave 
her  a  boyish  air. 

This  undoubtedly  was  Shaver's  mother 
who   had   caught   him    prowling   in  her 
house,   and  all  The  Hopper's  plans  for 
74 


(ft  (Ilm**tMe  ^mtta 

explaining  her  son's  disappearance  and 
returning  him  in  a  manner  to  win  praise 
and  gratitude  went  glimmering.  There  was 
nothing  in  the  appearance  of  this  Muriel 
to  encourage  a  hope  that  she  was  either 
embarrassed  or  alarmed  by  his  presence. 
He  had  been  captured  many  times,  but  the 
trick  had  never  been  turned  by  any  one 
so  cool  as  this  young  woman.  She  seemed 
to  be  pondering  with  the  greatest  calm- 
ness what  disposition  she  should  make  of 
him.  In  the  intentness  of  her  thought 
the  revolver  wavered  for  an  instant,  and 
The  Hopper,  without  taking  his  eyes  from 
her,  made  a  cat-like  spring  that  brought 
him  to  the  window  he  had  raised  against 
just  such  an  emergency. 

"None  of   that!"  she  cried,   walking 
slowly  toward  him  without  lowering  the 
pistol.    "If  you  attempt  to  jump  from 
75 


that  window  I'll  shoot!  But  it's  cold  in 
here  and  you  may  lower  it." 

The  Hopper,  weighing  the  chances,  de- 
cided that  the  odds  were  heavily  against 
escape,  and  lowered  the  window. 

"Now,"  said  Muriel,  "step  into  that 
corner  and  keep  your  hands  up  where  I 
can  watch  them." 

The  Hopper  obeyed  her  instructions 
strictly.  There  was  a  telephone  on  the 
table  near  her  and  he  expected  her  to 
summon  help;  but  to  his  surprise  she 
calmly  seated  herself,  resting  her  right  el- 
bow on  the  arm  of  the  chair,  her  head 
slightly  tilted  to  one  side,  as  she  inspected 
him  with  greater  attention  along  the 
blueblack  barrel  of  her  automatic.  Un- 
less he  made  a  dash  for  liberty  this  extra- 
ordinary woman  would,  at  her  leisure, 
turn  him  over  to  the  police  as  a  house- 
76 


ganfa  Cfau* 

breaker  and  his  peaceful  life  as  a  chicken 
farmer  would  be  at  an  end.  Her  pro- 
longed silence  troubled  The  Hopper.  He 
had  not  been  more  nervous  when  wait- 
ing for  the  report  of  the  juries  which  at 
times  had  passed  upon  his  conduct,  or 
for  judges  to  fix  his  term  of  imprisonment. 

"  Yes'm,"  he  muttered,  with  a  view  to 
ending  a  silence  that  had  become  intol- 
erable. 

Her  eyes  danced  to  the  accompaniment 
of  her  thoughts,  but  in  no  way  did  she 
betray  the  slightest  perturbation. 

"I  ain't  done  nothin';  hones'  to  God,  I 
ain't!"  he  protested  brokenly. 

"  I  saw  you  through  the  window  when 
you  entered  this  room  and  I  was  watch- 
ing while  you  read  that  note,"  said  his 
captor.  "I  thought  it  funny  that  you 
should  do  that  instead  of  packing  up  the 
77 


silver.  Do  you  mind  telling  me  just  why 
you  read  that  note?" 

"Well,  miss,  I  jes*  thought  it  kind  o' 
funny  there  wuz  n't  nobody  round  an' 
the  letter  was  layin'  there  all  open,  an'  I 
did  n't  see  no-  harm  in  lookin'." 

"It  was  awfully  clever  of  you  to  crawl 
into  the  corner  so  nobody  could  see  your 
light  from  the  windows,"  she  said  with 
a  tinge  of  admiration.  "I  suppose  you 
thought  you  might  find  out  how  long  the 
people  of  the  house  were  likely  to  be  gone 
and  how  much  time  you  could  spend  here. 
Was  that  it?" 

"I  reckon  ut  wuz  somethin'  like  that," 
he  agreed. 

This  was  received  with  the  noncom- 
mittal "Urn"  of  a  person  whose  thoughts 
are  elsewhere.  Then,  as  though  she  were 
eliciting  from  an  artist  or  man  of  letters 
78 


(ft  (Rei?em6Ce  ^mtfa  Cfau* 

a  frank  opinion  as  to  his  own  ideas  of  his 
attainments  and  professional  standing,  she 
asked,  with  a  meditative  air  that  puzzled 
him  as  much  as  her  question :  — 

"Just  how  good  a  burglar  are  you? 
Can  you  do  a  job  neatly  and  safely?" 

The  Hopper,  staggered  by  her  inquiry 
and  overcome  by  modesty,  shrugged  his 
shoulders  and  twisted  about  uncomfort- 
ably. 

"I  reckon  as  how  you've  pinched  me  I 
ain't  much  good,"  he  replied,  and  was  re- 
warded with  a  smile  followed  by  a  light 
little  laugh.  He  was  beginning  to  feel 
pleased  that  she  manifested  no  fear  of 
him.  In  fact,  he  had  decided  that  Shav- 
er's mother  was  the  most  remarkable 
woman  he  had  ever  encountered,  and  by 
all  odds  the  handsomest.  He  began  to 
take  heart.  Perhaps  after  all  he  might  hit 
79 


(ft  (Rwtwifife  ^mtfa 

upon  some  way  of  restoring  Shaver  to  his 
proper  place  in  the  house  of  Talbot  with- 
out making  himself  liable  to  a  long  term 
for  kidnaping. 

"If  you're  really  a  successful  burglar 
—  one  who  does  n't  just  poke  around  in 
empty  houses  as  you  were  doing  here,  but 
clever  and  brave  enough  to  break  into 
houses  where  people  are  living  and  steal 
things  without  making  a  mess  of  it;  and 
if  you  can  play  fair  about  it  —  then  I 
think  —  I  think  —  maybe  —  we  can  come 
to  terms  I" 

"Yes'm!"  faltered  The  Hopper,  begin- 
ning to  wonder  if  Mary  and  Humpy  had 
been  right  in  saying  that  he  had  lost  his 
mind.  He  was  so  astonished  that  his  arms 
wavered,  but  she  was  instantly  on  her  feet 
and  the  little  automatic  was  again  on  a 
level  with  his  eyes. 

80 


anfa  Cfau* 

"Excuse  me,  miss,  I  didn't  mean  to 
drop  'em.  I  were  n't  goin'  to  do  nothin'. 
Hones'  I  wuz  n't!"  he  pleaded  with  real 
contrition.  "It  jes'  seemed  kind  o'  funny 
what  ye  said." 

He  grinned  sheepishly.  If  she  knew 
that  her  Billie,  alias  Shaver,  was  not  with 
her  husband  at  his  father's  house,  she 
would  not  be  dallying  in  this  fashion. 
And  if  the  young  father,  who  painted  pic- 
tures, and  left  notes  in  his  studio  in  a 
blind  faith  that  his  wife  would  find  them, 
—  if  that  trusting  soul  knew  that  Billie 
was  asleep  in  a  house  all  of  whose  inmates 
had  done  penance  behind  prison  bars,  he 
would  very  quickly  become  a  man  of  ac- 
tion. The  Hopper  had  never  heard  of  such 
careless  parenthood!  These  people  were 
children!  His  heart  warmed  to  them  in  pity 
and  admiration,  as  it  had  to  little  Billie. 
81 


(ft  (Rtittritfif  t  ^anfo  Cfau* 

"I  forgot  to  ask  you  whether  you  are 
armed,"  she  remarked,  with  just  as  much 
composure  as  though  she  were  asking  him 
whether  he  took  two  lumps  of  sugar  in 
his  tea;  and  then  she  added,  "I  suppose  I 
ought  to  have  asked  you  that  in  the 
first  place." 

"I  gotta  gun  in  my  coat — right  side," 
he  confessed.  "An'  that's  all  I  got,"  he 
added,  batting  his  eyes  under  the  spell  of 
her  bewildering  smile. 

With  her  left  hand  she  cautiously  ex- 
tracted his  revolver  and  backed  away  with 
it  to  the  table. 

"If  you'd  lied  to  me  I  should  have 
killed  you;  do  you  understand?" 

"Yes'm,"  murmured  The  Hopper 
meekly. 

She  had  spoken  as  though  homicide 
were  a  common  incident  of  her  life,  but 
82 


a  gleam  of  humor  in  the  eyes  she  was 
watching  vigilantly  abated  her  severity. 

"You  may  sit  down  —  there,  please!" 

She  pointed  to  a  much  bepillowed  dav- 
enport and  The  Hopper  sank  down  on  it, 
still  with  his  hands  up.  To  his  deepening 
mystification  she  backed  to  the  windows 
and  lowered  the  shades,  and  this  done  she 
sat  down  with  the  table  between  them, 
remarking,  — 

"You  may  put  your  hands  down  now, 
Mr. ?" 

He  hesitated,  decided  that  it  was  un- 
wise to  give  any  of  his  names;  and  re- 
specting his  scruples  she  said  with  great 
magnanimity :  — 

"Of  course  you  would  n't  want  to  tell  me 
your  name,  so  don't  trouble  about  that." 

She  sat,  wholly  tranquil,  her  arms  upon 
the  table,  both  hands  caressing  the  small 
83 


(ft  (Rmmfife  ^anfa 

automatic,  while  his  own  revolver,  of  dif- 
ferent pattern  and  larger  caliber,  lay  close 
by.  His  status  was  now  established  as  that 
of  a  gentleman  making  a  social  call  upon 
a  lady  who,  in  the  pleasantest  manner 
imaginable  and  yet  with  undeniable  reso- 
luteness, kept  a  deadly  weapon  pointed 
in  the  general  direction  of  his  person. 

A  clock  on  the  mantel  struck  eleven 
with  a  low,  silvery  note.  Muriel  waited 
for  the  last  stroke  and  then  spoke  crisply 
and  directly. 

"We  were  speaking  of  that  letter  I  left 
lying  here  on  the  table.  You  did  n't  un- 
derstand it,  of  course;  you  couldn't  — 
not  really.  So  I  will  explain  it  to  you. 
My  husband  and  I  married  against  our 
fathers'  wishes;  both  of  them  were  op- 
posed to  it." 

She  waited  for  this  to  sink  into  his 
84 


perturbed  consciousness.  The  Hopper 
frowned  and  leaned  forward  to  express 
his  sympathetic  interest  in  this  confi- 
dential disclosure. 

"My  father,"  she  resumed,  "is  just  as 
stupid  as  my  father-in-law  and  they  have 
both  continued  to  make  us  just  as  un- 
comfortable as  possible.  The  cause  of 
the  trouble  is  ridiculous.  There 's  nothing 
against  my  husband  or  me,  you  under- 
stand; it's  simply  a  bitter  jealousy  be- 
tween the  two  men  due  to  the  fact  that 
they  are  rival  collectors." 

The  Hopper  stared  blankly.  The  only 
collectors  with  whom  he  had  enjoyed  any 
acquaintance  were  persons  who  presented 
bills  for  payment. 

"They  are  collectors,"  Muriel  hastened 
to  explain,  "of  ceramics  —  precious  por- 
celains and  that  sort  of  thing." 
85 


CCau* 

"Yes'm,"  assented  The  Hopper,  who 
had  n't  the  faintest  notion  of  what  she 
meant. 

"For  years,  whenever  there  have  been 
important  sales  of  these  things,  which 
men  fight  for  and  are  willing  to  die  for  — 
whenever  there  has  been  something  spe- 
cially fine  in  the  market,  my  father-in- 
law— he's  Mr.  Talbot  — and  Mr.  Wil- 
ton —  he 's  my  father  —  have  bid  for 
them.  There  are  auctions,  you  know,  and 
people  come  from  all  over  the  world  look- 
ing for  a  chance  to  buy  the  rarest  pieces. 
They  Ve  explored  China  and  Japan  hunt- 
ing for  prizes  and  they  are  experts  —  men 
of  rare  taste  and  judgment  —  what  you 
call  connoisseurs." 

The  Hopper  nodded  gravely  at  the  un- 
familiar word,  convinced  that  not  only 
were  Muriel  and  her  husband  quite  in- 
86 


(Rtwwtfife  ^anfo  Cfau* 

sane,  but  that  they  had  inherited  the  in- 
firmity. 

"The  trouble  has  been,"  Muriel  con- 
tinued, "that  Mr.  Talbot  and  my  father 
both  like  the  same  kind  of  thing;  and 
when  one  has  got  something  the  other 
wanted,  of  course  it  has  added  to  the  ill- 
feeling.  This  has  been  going  on  for  years 
and  recently  they  have  grown  more  bit- 
ter. When  Roger  and  I  ran  off  and  got 
married,  that  didn't  help  matters  any; 
but  just  within  a  few  days  something  has 
happened  to  make  things  much  worse 
than  ever." 

The  Hopper's  complete  absorption  in 
this  novel  recital  was  so  manifest  that 
she  put  down  the  revolver  with  which  she 
had  been  idling  and  folded  her  hands. 

"Thank  ye,  miss,"  mumbled  The  Hop- 
per. 

87 


(ft  (Rmwfife  ^anfa 

''Only  last  week,"  Muriel  continued, 
"my  father-in-law  bought  one  of  those 
pottery  treasures  —  a  plum-blossom  vase 
made  in  China  hundreds  of  years  ago 
and  very,  very  valuable.  It  belonged  to 
a  Philadelphia  collector  who  died  not 
long  ago  and  Mr.  Talbot  bought  it  from 
the  executor  of  the  estate,  who  happened 
to  be  an  old  friend  of  his.  Father  was 
very  angry,  for  he  had  been  led  to  believe 
that  this  vase  was  going  to  be  offered  at 
auction  and  he'd  have  a  chance  to  bid 
on  it.  And  just  before  that  father  had 
got  hold  of  a  jar  —  a  perfectly  wonderful 
piece  of  red  Lang-Yao  —  that  collectors 
everywhere  have  coveted  for  years.  This 
made  Mr.  Talbot  furious  at  father.  My 
husband  is  at  his  father's  now  trying  to 
make  him  see  the  folly  of  all  this,  and  I 
visited  my  father  to-day  to  try  to  per- 
88 


suade  him  to  stop  being  so  foolish.  You 
see  I  wanted  us  all  to  be  happy  for  Christ- 
mas! Of  course,  Christmas  ought  to  be 
a  time  of  gladness  for  everybody.  Even 
people  in  your  —  er  —  profession  must 
feel  that  Christmas  is  one  day  in  the  year 
when  all  hard  feelings  should  be  forgotten 
and  everybody  should  try  to  make  others 
happy." 

"  I  guess  yer  right,  miss.  Ut  sure  seems 
foolish  fer  folks  t'  git  mad  about  jugs  like 
you  says.  Wuz  they  empty,  miss?" 

"Empty!"  repeated  Muriel  wonder- 
ingly,  not  understanding  at  once  that  her 
visitor  was  unaware  that  the  "jugs"  men 
fought  over  were  valued  as  art  treasures 
and  not  for  their  possible  contents.  Then 
she  laughed  merrily,  as  only  the  mother 
of  Shaver  could  laugh. 

"Oh!  Of  course  they're  empty!  That 
80 


Cfau* 

does  seem  to  make  it  sillier,  does  n't  it? 
But  they're  like  famous  pictures,  you 
know,  or  any  beautiful  work  of  art  that 
only  happens  occasionally.  Perhaps  it 
seems  odd  to  you  that  men  can  be  so 
crazy  about  such  things,  but  I  suppose 
sometimes  you  have  wanted  things  very, 
very  much,  and  —  oh!" 

She  paused,  plainly  confused  by  her 
tactlessness  in  suggesting  to  a  member  of 
his  profession  the  extremities  to  which 
one  may  be  led  by  covetousness. 

"Yes,  miss,"  he  remarked  hastily;  and 
he  rubbed  his  nose  with  the  back  of  his 
hand,  and  grinned  indulgently  as  he  real- 
ized the  cause  of  her  embarrassment.  It 
crossed  his  mind  that  she  might  be  play- 
ing a  trick  of  some  kind;  that  her  story, 
which  seemed  to  him  wholly  fantastic 
and  not  at  all  like  a  chronicle  of  the  acts 
90 


Cfaua 

of  veritable  human  beings,  was  merely  a 
device  for  detaining  him  until  help  ar- 
rived. But  he  dismissed  this  immediately 
as  unworthy  of  one  so  pleasing,  so  beauti- 
ful, so  perfectly  qualified  to  be  the  mother 
of  Shaver! 

"Well,  just  before  luncheon,  without 
telling  my  husband  where  I  was  going,  I 
ran  away  to  papa's,  hoping  to  persuade 
him  to  end  this  silly  feud.  I  spent  the 
afternoon  there  and  he  was  very  unrea- 
sonable. He  feels  that  Mr.  Talbot  was 
n't  fair  about  that  Philadelphia  purchase, 
and  I  gave  it  up  and  came  home.  I  got 
here  a  little  after  dark  and  found  my 
husband  had  taken  Billie  —  that 's  our 
little  boy  —  and  gone.  I  knew,  of  course, 
that  he  had  gone  to  his  father's  hoping  to 
bring  him  round,  for  both  our  fathers  are 
simply  crazy  about  Billie.  But  you  see  I 
91 


(ft  (Rmwtfife 

never  go  to  Mr.  Talbot's  and  my  husband 
never  goes —  Dear  me!"  she  broke  off 
suddenly.  "  I  suppose  I  ought  to  tele- 
phone and  see  if  Billie  is  all  right. " 

The  Hopper,  greatly  alarmed,  thrust 
his  head  forward  as  she  pondered  this. 
If  she  telephoned  to  her  father-in-law's 
to  ask  about  Billie,  the  jig  would  be  up! 
He  drew  his  hand  across  his  face  and  fell 
back  with  relief  as  she  went  on,  a  little 
absently:  — 

"Mr.  Talbot  hates  telephoning,  and  it 
might  be  that  my  husband  is  just  getting 
him  to  the  point  of  making  concessions, 
and  I  shouldn't  want  to  interrupt.  It's 
so  late  now  that  of  course  Roger  and 
Billie  will  spend  the  night  there.  And 
Billie  and  Christmas  ought  to  be  a  combin- 
ation that  would  soften  the  hardest  heart ! 
You  ought  to  see  —  you  just  ought  to  see 

02 


Billie !  He 's  the  cunningest,  dearest  baby 
in  the  world!" 

The  Hopper  sat  pigeon-toed,  beset  by 
countless  conflicting  emotions.  His  inge- 
nuity was  taxed  to  its  utmost  by  the 
demands  of  this  complex  situation.  But 
for  his  returning  suspicion  that  Muriel 
was  leading  up  to  something;  that  she 
was  detaining  him  for  some  purpose  not 
yet  apparent,  he  would  have  told  her  of 
her  husband's  note  and  confessed  that 
the  adored  Billie  was  at  that  moment  en- 
joying the  reluctant  hospitality  of  Happy 
Hill  Farm.  He  resolved  to  continue  his 
policy  of  silence  as  to  the  young  heir's 
whereabouts  until  Muriel  had  shown  her 
hand.  She  had  not  wholly  abandoned  the 
thought  of  telephoning  to  her  father-in- 
law's,  he  found,  from  her  next  remark. 

"You  think  it's  all  right,  don't  you? 
93 


(ft  (Rmmfife  ^anfa  Cfau* 

It's  strange  Roger  did  n't  leave  me  a  note 
of  some  kind.  Our  cook  left  a  week  ago 
and  there  was  no  one  here  when  he  left." 

"I  reckon  as  how  yer  kid's  all  right, 
miss,"  he  answered  consolingly. 

Her  voluble  confidences  had  enthralled 
him,  and  her  reference  of  this  matter  to 
his  judgment  was  enormously  flattering. 
On  the  rough  edges  of  society  where  he 
had  spent  most  of  his  life,  fellow  crafts- 
men had  frequently  solicited  his  advice, 
chiefly  as  to  the  disposition  of  their  ill- 
gotten  gains  or  regarding  safe  harbors  of 
refuge,  but  to  be  taken  into  counsel  by  the 
only  gentlewoman  he  had  ever  met  roused 
his  self-respect,  touched  a  chivalry  that 
never  before  had  been  wakened  in  The 
Hopper's  soul.  She  was  so  like  a  child  in 
her  guilelessness,  and  so  brave  amid  her 
perplexities ! 

94 


(ft  (Rmwtfife 

"Oh,  I  know  Roger  will  take  beautiful 
care  of  Billie.  And  now,"  she  smiled 
radiantly,  "you're  probably  wondering 
what  I've  been  driving  at  all  this  time. 
Maybe"  —  she  added  softly  — "maybe 
it's  providential,  your  turning  up  here  in 
this  way!" 

She  uttered  this  happily,  with  a  lit- 
tle note  of  triumph  and  another  of  her 
smiles  that  seemed  to  illuminate  the  uni- 
verse. The  Hopper  had  been  called  many 
names  in  his  varied  career,  but  never  be- 
fore had  he  been  invested  with  the  attri- 
butes of  an  agent  of  Providence. 

"They's  things  wot  is  an'  they's  things 
wot  ain't,  miss;  I  reckon  I  ain't  as  bad 
as  some.  I  mean  to  be  on  the  square, 
miss." 

"I  believe  that,"  she  said.  "I've  al- 
ways heard  there's  honor  among  thieves, 
95 


and  "  —  she  lowered  her  voice  to  a  whis- 
per—  "it's  possible  I  might  become  one 
myself!" 

The  Hopper's  eyes  opened  wide  and  he 
crossed  and  uncrossed  his  legs  nervously 
in  his  agitation. 

" If  —  if"  —  she  began  slowly,  bend- 
ing forward  with  a  grave,  earnest  look  in 
her  eyes  and  clasping  her  fingers  tightly 
—  "if  we  could  only  get  hold  of  father's 
Lang-Yao  jar  and  that  plum-blossom  vase 
Mr.  Talbot  has  —  if  we  could  only  do 
that!" 

The  Hopper  swallowed  hard.  This  fear- 
less, pretty  young  woman  was  calmly  sug- 
gesting that  he  commit  two  felonies,  lit- 
tle knowing  that  his  score  for  the  day 
already  aggregated  three  —  purse-snatch- 
ing, the  theft  of  an  automobile  from  her 
own  door,  and  what  might  very  readily 
96 


be  construed  as  the  kidnaping  of  her  own 
child! 

"I  don't  know,  miss,"  he  said  feebly, 
calculating  that  the  sum  total  of  even 
minimum  penalties  for  the  five  crimes 
would  outrun  his  natural  life  and  con- 
sume an  eternity  of  reincarnations. 

"Of  course  it  wouldn't  be  stealing 
in  the  ordinary  sense,"  she  explained. 
"What  I  want  you  to  do  is  to  play  the 
part  of  what  we  will  call  a  reversible 
Santa  Claus,  who  takes  things  away  from 
stupid  people  who  don't  enjoy  them 
anyhow.  And  maybe  if  they  lost  these 
things  they  'd  behave  themselves.  I  could 
explain  afterward  that  it  was  all  my  fault, 
and  of  course  I  wouldn't  let  any  harm 
come  to  you.  I'd  be  responsible,  and  of 
course  I'd  see  you  safely  out  of  it;  you 
would  have  to  rely  on  me  for  that.  I  'm 
07 


(ft  (Rmwtfife  ^anfa  Cfau* 

trusting  you  and  you'd  have  to  trust 
met" 

"Oh,  I'd  trust  ye,  miss!  An'  ef  I  was 
to  get  pinched  I  would  n't  never  squeal 
on  ye.  We  don't  never  blab  on  a  pal, 
miss!" 

He  was  afraid  she  might  resent  being 
called  a  "pal,"  but  his  use  of  the  term  ap- 
parently pleased  her. 

"We  understand  each  other,  then.  It 
really  won't  be  very  difficult,  for  papa's 
place  is  over  on  the  Sound  and  Mr.  Tal- 
bot's  is  right  next  to  it,  so  you  would 
n't  have  far  to  go." 

Her  utter  failure  to  comprehend  the 
enormity  of  the  thing  she  was  proposing 
affected  him  queerly.  Even  among  hard- 
ened criminals  in  the  underworld  such 
undertakings  are  suggested  cautiously; 
but  Muriel  was  ordering  a  burglary  as 
03 


(ft  (R#?tt*i6fe 

though  it  were  a  pound  of  butter  or  a 
dozen  eggs! 

"Father  keeps  his  most  valuable  glazes 
in  a  safe  in  the  pantry,"  she  resumed  after 
a  moment's  reflection,  "but  I  can  give 
you  the  combination.  That  will  make  it 
a  lot  easier." 

The  Hopper  assented,  with  a  pontifical 
nod,  to  this  sanguine  view  of  the  matter. 

"Mr.  Talbot  keeps  his  finest  pieces  in 
a  cabinet  built  into  the  bookshelves  in 
his  library.  It's  on  the  left  side  as  you 
stand  in  the  drawing-room  door,  and 
you  look  for  the  works  of  Thomas 
Carlyle.  There's  a  dozen  or  so  volumes 
of  Carlyle,  only  they  're  not  books,  — 
not  really,  —  but  just  the  backs  of  books 
painted  on  the  steel  of  a  safe.  And  if  you 
press  a  spring  in  the  upper  right-hand 
corner  of  the  shelf  just  over  these  books 

99 


the  whole  section  swings  out.  I  suppose 
you've  seen  that  sort  of  hiding-place  for 
valuables?" 

"Well,  not  exactly,  miss.  But  havin'  a 
tip  helps,  an'  ef  there  ain't  no  soup  to 
pour — " 

"Soup?"  inquired  Muriel,  wrinkling  her 
pretty  brows. 

"That's  the  juice  we  pour  into  the 
cracks  of  a  safe  to  blow  out  the  lid  with," 
The  Hopper  elucidated.  "  Ut's  a  lot  han- 
dier ef  you've  got  the  combination.  Ut 
usually  ain't  jes'  layin'  around." 

"  I  should  hope  not! "  exclaimed  Muriel. 

She  took  a  sheet  of  paper  from  the 
leathern  stationery  rack  and  fell  to  scrib- 
bling, while  he  furtively  eyed  the  window 
and  again  put  from  him  the  thought  of 
flight. 

"There!  That's  the  combination  of 
100 


(ft  (Ke&emfife  ganfa  Cfau* 

papa's  safe."  She  turned  her  wrist  and 
glanced  at  her  watch.  "It's  half-past 
eleven  and  you  can  catch  a  trolley  in  ten 
minutes  that  will  take  you  right  past 
papa's  house.  The  butler's  an  old  man 
who  forgets  to  lock  the  windows  half  the 
time,  and  there's  one  in  the  conservatory 
with  a  broken  catch.  I  noticed  it  to-day 
when  I  was  thinking  about  stealing  the 
jar  myself!" 

They  were  established  on  so  firm  a 
basis  of  mutual  confidence  that  when  he 
rose  and  walked  to  the  table  she  did  n't 
lift  her  eyes  from  the  paper  on  which  she 
was  drawing  a  diagram  of  her  father's 
house.  He  stood  watching  her  nimble 
fingers,  fascinated  by  the  boldness  of  her 
plan  for  restoring  amity  between  Shaver's 
grandfathers,  and  filled  with  admiration 
for  her  resourcefulness. 
101 


(ft  (Rtwwifife 

He  asked  a  few  questions  as  to  exits 
and  entrances  and  fixed  in  his  mind  a  very 
accurate  picture  of  the  home  of  her  father. 
She  then  proceeded  to  enlighten  him  as  to 
the  ways  and  means  of  entering  the  home 
of  her  father-in-law,  which  she  sketched 
with  equal  facility. 

"There's  a  French  window  —  a  nar- 
row glass  door — on  the  veranda.  I  think 
you  might  get  in  there!"  She  made  a  jab 
with  the  pencil.  "Of  course  I  should  hate 
awfully  to  have  you  get  caught!  But  you 
must  have  had  a  lot  of  experience,  and 
with  all  the  help  I  'm  giving  you  —  !" 

A  sudden  lifting  of  her  head  gave  him 
the  full  benefit  of  her  eyes  and  he  averted 
his  gaze  reverently. 

"There's  always  a  chance  o'  bein' 
nabbed,  miss,"  he  suggested  with  feeling. 

Shaver's  mother  wielded  the  same  hyp- 
102 


notic  power,  highly  intensified,  that  he 
had  felt  in  Shaver.  He  knew  that  he  was 
going  to  attempt  what  she  asked ;  that  he 
was  committed  to  the  project  of  robbing 
two  houses  merely  to  please  a  pretty  young 
woman  who  invited  his  cooperation  at 
the  point  of  a  revolver ! 

"Papa's  always  a  sound  sleeper,"  she 
was  saying.  "When  I  was  a  little  girl  a 
burglar  went  all  through  our  house  and 
carried  off  his  clothes  and  he  never  knew 
it  until  the  next  morning.  But  you'll 
have  to  be  careful  at  Mr.  Talbot's,  for  he 
suffers  horribly  from  insomnia." 

"They  got  any  o'  them  fancy  burglar 
alarms?"  asked  The  Hopper  as  he  con- 
cluded his  examination  of  her  sketches. 

"Oh,  I  forgot  to  tell  you  about  that!" 
she  cried  contritely.  "There's  nothing  of 
the  kind  at  Mr.  Talbot's,  but  at  papa's 

103 


(ft  (Rtmrifife  ^anfa  Cfau0 

there's  a  switch  in  the  living-room,  right 
back  of  a  bust  —  a  white  marble  thing 
on  a  pedestal.  You  turn  it  off  there.  Half 
the  time  papa  forgets  to  switch  it  on 
before  he  goes  to  bed.  And  another  thing 
—  be  careful  about  stumbling  over  that 
bearskin  rug  in  the  hall.  People  are  al- 
ways sticking  their  feet  into  its  jaws." 

" I'll  look  out  for  ut,  miss." 

Burglar  alarms  and  the  jaws  of  wild 
beasts  were  not  inviting  hazards.  The 
programme  she  outlined  so  light-heart- 
edly was  full  of  complexities.  It  was 
almost  pathetic  that  any  one  could  so 
cheerfully  and  irresponsibly  suggest  the 
perpetration  of  a  crime.  The  terms  she 
used  in  describing  the  loot  he  was  to  filch 
were  much  stranger  to  him  than  Chinese, 
but  it  was  fairly  clear  that  at  the  Talbot 
house  he  was  to  steal  a  blue-and-white 
104 


thing  and  at  the  Wilton's  a  red  one.  The 
form  and  size  of  these  articles  she  illus- 
trated with  graceful  gestures. 

"If  I  thought  you  were  likely  to  make 
a  mistake  I'd  —  I'd  go  with  you!"  she 
declared. 

"Oh,  no,  miss;  ye  could  n't  do  that!  I 
guess  I  can  do  ut  fer  ye.  Ut's  jes'  a  leetle 
ticklish.  I  reckon  ef  yer  pa  wuz  to  nab  me 
ut'd  go  hard  with  me." 

"I  would  n't  let  him  be  hard  on  you," 
she  replied  earnestly.  "And  now  I  have 
n't  said  anything  about  a  —  a  —  about 
what  we  will  call  a  reward  for  bringing 
me  these  porcelains.  I  shall  expect  to  pay 
you;  I  could  n't  think  of  taking  up  your 
time,  you  know,  for  nothing!" 

"Lor',  miss,  I  could  n't  take  no  thin'  at 
all  fer  doin'  ut!  Ye  see  ut  wuz  sort  of  ac- 
cidental our  meetin',  and  besides,  I  ain't 
105 


(ft  (Rmrrifife  ^anfo  Cfau* 

no  housebreaker  —  not,  as  ye  may  say, 
reg'ler.  I  '11  be  glad  to  do  ut  fer  ye,  miss, 
an'  ye  can  rely  on  me  doin'  my  best  fer 
ye.  Ye've  treated  me  right,  miss,  an'  I 
ain't  a-goin'  t'  fergit  ut!" 

The  Hopper  spoke  with  feeling.  Shav- 
er's mother  had,  albeit  at  the  pistol  point, 
confided  her  most  intimate  domestic  af- 
fairs to  him.  He  realized,  without  finding 
just  these  words  for  it,  that  she  had  in 
effect  decorated  him  with  the  symbol  of 
her  order  of  knighthood  and  he  had  every 
honorable  —  or  dishonorable !  —  intention 
of  proving  himself  worthy  of  her  confidence. 

"If  ye  please,  miss,"  he  said,  pointing 
toward  his  confiscated  revolver. 

"Certainly;  you  may  take  it.  But  of 
course  you  won't  kill  anybody?" 

"No,  miss;  only  I'm  sort  o'  lonesome 
without  ut  when  I'm  on  a  job." 
106 


(ft  (Rmwifift  ^anfo  Cfau* 

"And  you  do  understand,"  she  said, 
following  him  to  the  door  and  noting  in 
the  distance  the  headlight  of  an  approach- 
ing trolley,  "that  I'm  only  doing  this  in 
the  hope  that  good  may  come  of  it.  It 
is  n't  really  criminal,  you  know;  if  you 
succeed,  it  may  mean  the  happiest  Christ- 
mas of  my  life!" 

"Yes,  miss.  I  won't  come  back  till 
mornin',  but  don't  you  worry  none.  We 
gotta  play  safe,  miss,  an*  ef  I  land  th' 
jugs  I'll  find  cover  till  I  kin  deliver  'em 
safe." 

"Thank  you;  oh,  thank  you  ever  so 
much!  And  good  luck!" 

She  put  out  her  hand;  he  held  it  gin- 
gerly for  a  moment  in  his  rough  fingers 
and  ran  for  the  car. 


VII 


VII 

THE  HOPPER,  in  his  role  of  the  Reversible 
Santa  Claus,  dropped  off  the  car  at  the 
crossing  Muriel  had  carefully  described, 
waited  for  the  car  to  vanish,  and  warily 
entered  the  Wilton  estate  through  a  gate 
set  in  the  stone  wall.  The  clouds  of  the 
early  evening  had  passed  and  the  stars 
marched  through  the  heavens  resplend- 
ently,  proclaiming  peace  on  earth  and 
good-will  toward  men.  They  were  almost 
oppressively  brilliant,  seen  through  the 
clear,  cold  atmosphere,  and  as  The  Hopper 
slipped  from  one  big  tree  to  another  on 
tit 


(ft  (Remsifife 

his  tangential  course  to  the  house,  he  for- 
tified his  courage  by  muttering,  "They's 
things  wot  is  an'  things  wot  ain't!"  — 
finding  much  comfort  and  stimulus  in  the 
phrase. 

Arriving  at  the  conservatory  in  due 
course,  he  found  that  Muriel's  averments 
as  to  the  vulnerability  of  that  corner  of 
her  father's  house  were  correct  in  every 
particular.  He  entered  with  ease,  sniffed 
the  warm,  moist  air,  and,  leaving  the  door 
slightly  ajar,  sought  the  pantry,  lowered 
the  shades,  and,  helping  himself  to  a  can- 
dle from  a  silver  candelabrum,  readily 
found  the  safe  hidden  away  in  one  of  the 
cupboards.  He  was  surprised  to  find  him- 
self more  nervous  with  the  combination  in 
his  hand  than  on  memorable  occasions  in 
the  old  days  when  he  had  broken  into 
country  postoffices  and  assaulted  safes 

112 


by  force.  In  his  haste  he  twice  failed  to 
give  the  proper  turns,  but  the  third  time 
the  knob  caught,  and  in  a  moment  the 
door  swung  open  disclosing  shelves  filled 
with  vases,  bottles,  bowls,  and  plates  in 
bewildering  variety.  A  chest  of  silver  ap- 
pealed to  him  distractingly  as  a  much 
more  tangible  asset  than  the  pottery,  and 
he  dizzily  contemplated  a  jewel-case  con- 
taining a  diamond  necklace  with  a  pearl 
pendant.  The  moment  was  a  critical  one 
in  The  Hopper's  eventful  career.  This  daz- 
zling prize  was  his  for  the  taking,  and  he 
knew  the  operator  of  a  fence  in  Chicago 
who  would  dispose  of  the  necklace  and 
make  him  a  fair  return.  But  visions  of 
Muriel,  the  beautiful,  the  confiding,  and  of 
her  little  Shaver  asleep  on  Humpy's  bed, 
rose  before  him.  He  steeled  his  heart 
against  temptation,  drew  his  candle  along 
113 


(ft  (Rwtwifife  ^anfo  Cfau* 

the  shelf  and  scrutinized  the  glazes.  There 
could  be  no  mistaking  the  red  Lang-Yao 
whose  brilliant  tints  kindled  in  the  candle- 
glow.  He  lifted  it  tenderly,  verifying  the 
various  points  of  Muriel's  description, 
set  it  down  on  the  floor  and  locked  the 
safe. 

He  was  retracing  his  steps  toward  the 
conservatory  and  had  reached  the  main 
hall  when  the  creaking  of  the  stairsteps 
brought  him  up  with  a  start.  Some  one 
was  descending,  slowly  and  cautiously. 
For  a  second  time  and  with  grateful 
appreciation  of  Muriel's  forethought,  he 
carefully  avoided  the  ferocious  jaws  of 
the  bear,  noiselessly  continued  on  to  the 
conservatory,  crept  through  the  door, 
closed  it,  and  then,  crouching  on  the  steps, 
awaited  developments.  The  caution  ex- 
ercised by  the  person  descending  the 

114 


stairway  was  not  that  of  a  householder 
who  has  been  roused  from  slumber  by  a 
disquieting  noise.  The  Hopper  was  keenly 
interested  in  this  fact. 

With  his  face  against  the  glass  he 
watched  the  actions  of  a  tall,  elderly  man 
with  a  short,  grayish  beard,  who  wore  a 
golf-cap  pulled  low  on  his  head  —  points 
noted  by  The  Hopper  in  the  flashes  of  an 
electric  lamp  with  which  the  gentleman 
was  guiding  himself.  His  face  was  clearly 
the  original  of  a  photograph  The  Hopper 
had  seen  on  the  table  at  Muriel's  cottage 
—  Mr.  Wilton,  Muriel's  father,  The  Hop- 
per surmised;  but  just  why  the  owner 
of  the  establishment  should  be  prowling 
about  in  this  fashion  taxed  his  specula- 
tive powers  to  the  utmost.  Warned  by 
steps  on  the  cement  floor  of  the  conser- 
vatory, he  left  the  door  in  haste  and  flat- 
us 


Cfau* 

tened  himself  against  the  wall  of  the  house 
some  distance  away  and  again  awaited  de- 
velopments. 

Wilton's  figure  was  a  blur  in  the  star- 
light as  he  stepped  out  into  the  walk  and 
started  furtively  across  the  grounds.  His 
conduct  greatly  displeased  The  Hopper, 
as  likely  to  interfere  with  the  further  car- 
rying out  of  Muriel's  instructions.  The 
Lang-Yao  jar  was  much  too  large  to  go 
into  his  pocket  and  not  big  enough  to  fit 
snugly  under  his  arm,  and  as  the  walk  was 
slippery  he  was  beset  by  the  fear  that  he 
might  fall  and  smash  this  absurd  thing 
that  had  caused  so  bitter  an  enmity  be- 
tween Shaver's  grandfathers.  The  soft 
snow  on  the  lawn  gave  him  a  surer  footing 
and  he  crept  after  Wilton,  who  was  care- 
fully pursuing  his  way  toward  a  house 
whose  gables  were  faintly  limned  against 
116 


THE   FAINT  CLICK  OF   A   LATCH   MARKED  THE   PROWLER'S 
PROXIMITY  TO  A   HEDGE 


the  sky.  This,  according  to  Muriel's  dia- 
gram, was  the  Talbot  place.  The  Hopper 
greatly  mistrusted  conditions  he  did  n't 
understand,  and  he  was  at  a  loss  to  ac- 
count for  Wilton's  strange  actions. 

He  lost  sight  of  him  for  several  min- 
utes, then  the  faint  click  of  a  latch  marked 
the  prowler's  proximity  to  a  hedge  that 
separated  the  two  estates.  The  Hopper 
crept  forward,  found  a  gate  through  which 
Wilton  had  entered  his  neighbor's  prop- 
erty, and  stole  after  him.  Wilton  had 
been  swallowed  up  by  the  deep  shadow  of 
the  house,  but  The  Hopper  was  aware, 
from  an  occasional  scraping  of  feet,  that  he 
was  still  moving  forward.  He  crawled  over 
the  snow  until  he  reached  a  large  tree 
whose  boughs,  sharply  limned  against  the 
stars,  brushed  the  eaves  of  the  house. 

The  Hopper  was  aroused,  tremendously 
117 


aroused,  by  the  unaccountable  actions  of 
Muriel's  father.  It  flashed  upon  him  that 
Wilton,  in  his  deep  hatred  of  his  rival  col- 
lector, was  about  to  set  fire  to  Talbot's 
house,  and  incendiarism  was  a  crime 
which  The  Hopper,  with  all  his  moral 
obliquity,  greatly  abhorred. 

Several  minutes  passed,  a  period  of  anx- 
ious waiting,  and  then  a  sound  reached 
him  which,  to  his  keen  professional  sense, 
seemed  singularly  like  the  forcing  of  a  win- 
dow. The  Hopper  knew  just  how  much 
pressure  is  necessary  to  the  successful 
snapping  back  of  a  window  catch,  and  Wil- 
ton had  done  the  trick  neatly  and  with 
a  minimum  amount  of  noise.  The  win- 
dow thus  assaulted  was  not,  he  now  de- 
termined, the  French  window  suggested 
by  Muriel,  but  one  opening  on  a  terrace 
which  ran  along  the  front  of  the  house. 
118 


The  Hopper  heard  the  sash  moving  slowly 
in  the  frame.  He  reached  the  steps,  de- 
posited the  jar  in  a  pile  of  snow,  and  was 
soon  peering  into  a  room  where  Wilton's 
presence  was  advertised  by  the  fitful  flash- 
ing of  his  lamp  in  a  far  corner. 

"He's  beat  me  to  ut!"  muttered  The 
Hopper,  realizing  that  Muriel's  father  was 
indeed  on  burglary  bent,  his  obvious 
purpose  being  to  purloin,  extract,  and 
remove  from  its  secret  hiding-place  the 
coveted  plum-blossom  vase.  Muriel,  in 
her  longing  for  a  Christmas  of  peace  and 
happiness,  had  not  reckoned  with  her 
father's  passionate  desire  to  possess  the 
porcelain  treasure  —  a  desire  which  could 
hardly  fail  to  cause  scandal,  if  it  did  not 
land  him  behind  prison  bars. 

This  had  not  been  in  the  programme, 
and  The  Hopper  weighed  judicially  his 


^anfa  Cfau* 

further  duty  in  the  matter.  Often  as  he 
had  been  the  chief  actor  in  daring  rob- 
beries, he  had  never  before  enjoyed  the 
high  privilege  of  watching  a  rival's  labors 
with  complete  detachment.  Wilton  must 
have  known  of  the  concealed  cupboard 
whose  panel  fraudulently  represented  the 
works  of  Thomas  Carlyle,  the  intent 
spectator  reflected,  just  as  Muriel  had 
known,  for  though  he  used  his  lamp 
sparingly  Wilton  had  found  his  way  to 
it  without  difficulty. 

The  Hopper  had  no  intention  of  per- 
mitting this  monstrous  larceny  to  be 
committed  in  contravention  of  his  own 
rights  in  the  premises,  and  he  was  con- 
sidering the  best  method  of  wresting  the 
vase  from  the  hands  of  the  insolent  Wil- 
ton when  events  began  to  multiply  with 
startling  rapidity.  The  panel  swung  open 

120 


(fUftftriftfe 

and  the  thief's  lamp  flashed  upon  shelves 
of  pottery. 

At  that  moment  a  shout  rose  from 
somewhere  in  the  house,  and  the  library 
lights  were  thrown  on,  revealing  Wilton 
before  the  shelves  and  their  precious  con- 
tents. A  short,  stout  gentleman  with  a 
gleaming  bald  pate,  clad  in  pajamas, 
dashed  across  the  room,  and  with  a  yell 
of  rage  flung  himself  upon  the  intruder 
with  a  violence  that  bore  them  both  to 
the  floor. 

"Roger!  Roger!"  bawled  the  smaller 
man,  as  he  struggled  with  his  adversary, 
who  wriggled  from  under  and  rolled  over 
upon  Talbot,  whose  arms  were  clasped 
tightly  about  his  neck.  This  embrace 
seemed  likely  to.  continue  for  some  time, 
so  tenaciously  had  the  little  man  gripped 
his  neighbor.  The  fat  legs  of  the  infuri- 
121 


ated  householder  pawed  the  air  as  he 
hugged  Wilton,  who  was  now  trying  to 
free  his  head  and  gain  a  position  of 
greater  dignity.  Occasionally,  as  oppor- 
tunity offered,  the  little  man  yelled  vo- 
ciferously, and  from  remote  recesses  of 
the  house  came  answering  cries  demand- 
ing information  as  to  the  nature  and 
whereabouts  of  the  disturbance. 

The  contestants  addressed  themselves 
vigorously  to  a  spirited  rough-and-tumble 
fight.  Talbot,  who  was  the  more  easily 
observed  by  reason  of  his  shining  pate 
and  the  pink  stripes  of  his  pajamas,  ap- 
peared to  be  revolving  about  the  person 
of  his  neighbor.  Wilton,  though  taller, 
lacked  the  rotund  Talbot's  liveliness  of 
attack. 

An  authoritative  voice,  which  The 
Hopper  attributed  to  Shaver's  father, 
122 


£anfo  CCau* 

anxiously  demanding  what  was  the  mat- 
ter, terminated  The  Hopper's  enjoyment 
of  the  struggle.  Enough  was  the  matter 
to  satisfy  The  Hopper  that  a  prolonged 
stay  in  the  neighborhood  might  be  highly 
detrimental  to  his  future  liberty.  The 
combatants  had  rolled  a  considerable  dis- 
tance away  from  the  shelves  and  were 
near  a  door  leading  into  a  room  beyond. 
A  young  man  in  a  bath-wrapper  dashed 
upon  the  scene,  and  in  his  precipitate 
arrival  upon  the  battle-field  fell  sprawl- 
ing across  the  prone  figures.  The  Hop- 
per, suddenly  inspired  to  deeds  of  prow- 
ess, crawled  through  the  window,  sprang 
past  the  three  men,  seized  the  blue-and- 
white  vase  which  Wilton  had  separated 
from  the  rest  of  Talbot's  treasures,  and 
then  with  one  hop  gained  the  window. 
As  he  turned  for  a  last  look,  a  pistol 
123 


cracked  and  he  landed  upon  the  terrace 
amid  a  shower  of  glass  from  a  shattered 
pane. 

A  woman  of  unmistakable  Celtic  origin 
screamed  murder  from  a  third-story  win- 
dow. The  thought  of  murder  was  disa- 
greeable to  The  Hopper.  Shaver's  father 
had  missed  him  by  only  the -matter  of  a 
foot  or  two,  and  as  he  had  no  intention 
of  offering  himself  again  as  a  target  he 
stood  not  upon  the  order  of  his  going. 

He  effected  a  running  pick-up  of  the 
Lang-Yao,  and  with  this  art  treasure 
under  one  arm  and  the  plum-blossom 
vase  under  the  other,  he  sprinted  for 
the  highway,  stumbling  over  shrubbery, 
bumping  into  a  stone  bench  that  all  but 
caused  disaster,  and  finally  reached  the 
road  on  which  he  continued  his  flight 
toward  New  Haven,  followed  by  cries 

124 


in  many  keys  and  a  fusillade  of  pistol 
shots. 

Arriving  presently  at  a  hamlet,  where 
he  paused  for  breath  in  the  rear  of  a  coun- 
try store,  he  found  a  basket  and  a  quan- 
tity of  paper  in  which  he  carefully  packed 
his  loot.  Over  the  top  he  spread  some 
faded  lettuce  leaves  and  discarded  carna- 
tions which  communicated  something  of 
a  blithe  holiday  air  to  his  encumbrance. 
Elsewhere  he  found  a  bicycle  under  a 
shed,  and  while  cycling  over  a  snowy 
road  in  the  dark,  hampered  by  a  basket 
containing  pottery  representative  of  the 
highest  genius  of  the  Orient,  was  not 
without  its  difficulties  and  dangers,  The 
Hopper  made  rapid  progress. 

Halfway  through  New  Haven  he  ap- 
proached two  policemen  and  slowed  down 
to  allay  suspicion. 

125 


"Merry  Chris'mas!"  he  called  as  he 
passed  them  and  increased  his  weight 
upon  the  pedals. 

The  officers  of  the  law,  cheered  as  by 
a  greeting  from  Santa  Claus  himself,  re- 
sponded with  an  equally  hearty  Merry 
Christmas. 


VIII 


VIII 

AT  three  o'clock  The  Hopper  reached 
Happy  Hill  Farm,  knocked  as  before  at 
the  kitchen  door,  and  was  admitted  by 
Humpy. 

"Wot  ye  got  now?"  snarled  the  re- 
formed yeggman. 

"He's  gone  and  done  ut  ag'in!"  wailed 
Mary,  as  she  spied  the  basket. 

"I  sure  done  ut,  all  right,"  admitted 
The  Hopper  good-naturedly,  as  he  set  the 
basket  on  the  table  where  a  few  hours 
earlier  he  had  deposited  Shaver.  "How's 
the  kid?" 

129 


(ft  (Rmmfife  ^anto  Cfau* 

Grudging  assurances  that  Shaver  was 
asleep  and  hostile  glances  directed  at  the 
mysterious  basket  did  not  disturb  his 
equanimity. 

Humpy  was  thwarted  in  an  attempt  to 
pry  into  the  contents  of  the  basket  by 
a  tart  reprimand  from  The  Hopper,  who 
with  maddening  deliberation  drew  forth 
the  two  glazes,  found  that  they  had 
come  through  the  night's  vicissitudes  un- 
scathed, and  held  them  at  arm's  length, 
turning  them  about  in  leisurely  fashion 
as  though  lost  in  admiration  of  their  love- 
liness. Then  he  lighted  his  pipe,  seated 
himself  in  Mary's  rocker,  and  told  his 
story. 

It  was  no  easy  matter  to  communicate 
to  his  irritable  and  contumelious  audi- 
tors the  sense  of  Muriel's  charm,  or  the 
reasonableness  of  her  request  that  he 

130 


(§>  (lUfttoittt  ^anfo  Cfau* 

commit  burglary  merely  to  assist  her  in 
settling  a  family  row.  Mary  could  not 
understand  it;  Humpy  paced  the  room 
nervously,  shaking  his  head  and  mutter- 
ing. It  was  their  judgment,  stated  with 
much  frankness,  that  if  he  had  been  a  fool 
in  the  first  place  to  steal  the  child,  his 
character  was  now  blackened  beyond  any 
hope  by  his  later  crimes.  Mary  wept  co- 
piously; Humpy  most  annoyingly  kept 
counting  upon  his  fingers  as  he  reckoned 
the  "time"  that  was  in  store  for  all  of 
them. 

"I  guess  I  got  into  ut  an'  I  guess  I'll 
git  out,"  remarked  The  Hopper  serenely. 
He  was  disposed  to  treat  them  with  high 
condescension,  as  incapable  of  appreciat- 
ing the  lofty  philosophy  of  life  by  which 
he  was  sustained.  Meanwhile,  he  gloated 
over  the  loot  of  the  night. 
131 


(ft  (Rtwwtfife  ^anfa  Cfau* 

"Them  things  is  wurt'  mints;  they's 
more  valible  than  di'mon's,  them  things 
is!  Only  eddicated  folks  knows  about 
'em.  They 's  fer  emp'rors  and  kings  t'  set 
up  in  their  palaces,  an*  men  goes  nutty 
jes'  hankerin'  fer  'em.  The  pigtails  made 
'em  thousand  o'  years  back,  an'  th'  secret 
died  with  'em.  They  ain't  never  goin'  to 
be  no  more  jugs  like  them  settin'  right 
there.  An'  them  two  ole  sports  give  up 
their  business  jes'  t'  chase  things  like 
them.  They's  some  folks  goes  loony 
about  chickens,  an'  hosses,  an'  fancy  dogs, 
but  this  here  kind  o'  collectin'  's  only  fer 
millionaires.  They 's  more  difficult  t'  pick 
than  a  lucky  race-hoss.  They 's  barrels  o' 
that  stuff  in  them  houses,  that  looked  jes' 
as  good  as  them  there,  but  nowheres  as 
valible." 

An  informal  lecture  on  Chinese  ceram- 

132 


(ft  (RmmfiCe 

ics  before  daylight  on  Christmas  morn- 
ing was  not  to  the  liking  of  the  anxious 
and  nerve-torn  Mary  and  Humpy.  They 
brought  The  Hopper  down  from  his  lofty 
heights  to  practical  questions  touching 
his  plans,  for  the  disposal  of  Shaver  in  the 
first  instance,  and  the  ceramics  in  the 
second.  The  Hopper  was  singularly  un- 
moved by  their  forebodings. 

"I  guess  th'  lady  got  me  to  do  ut!"  he 
retorted  finally.  "Ef  I  do  time  fer  ut  I 
reckon 's  how  she's  in  fer  ut,  too!  An* 
I  seen  her  pap  breakin'  into  a  house  an'  I 
guess  I'd  be  a  state's  witness  fer  that!  I 
reckon  they  ain't  goin'  t'  put  nothin'  over 
on  Hop!  I  guess  they  won't  peep  much 
about  kidnapin'  with  th'  kid  safe  an*  us 
pickin'  'im  up  out  o'  th'  road  an'  shelterin' 
'im.  Them  folks  is  goin'  to  be  awful  nice 
to  Hop  fer  all  he  done  fer  'em."  And 
133 


then,  finding  that  they  were  impressed  by 
his  defense,  thus  elaborated,  he  magnani- 
mously referred  to  the  bill-book  which 
had  started  him  on  his  downward  course. 

"That  were  a  mistake;  I  grant  ye  ut 
were  a  mistake  o'  jedgment.  I  'm  goin'  to 
keep  to  th'  white  card.  But  ut's  kind  o' 
funny  about  that  poke  —  queerest  thing 
that  ever  happened." 

He  drew  out  the  book  and  eyed  the 
name  on  the  flap.  Humpy  tried  to  grab 
it,  but  The  Hopper,  frustrating  the  at- 
tempt, read  his  colleague  a  sharp  lesson 
in  good  manners.  He  restored  it  to  his 
pocket  and  glanced  at  the  clock. 

"We  gotta  do  somethin'  about  Shav- 
er's stockin's.  Ut  ain't  fair  fer  a  kid  to 
wake  up  an'  think  Santy  missed  'im.  Ye 
got  some  candy,  Mary;  we  kin  put  candy 
into  'em;  that's  reg'ler." 
134 


(Ke&emfife 

Humpy  brought  in  Shaver's  stockings 
and  they  were  stuffed  with  the  candy 
and  popcorn  Mary  had  provided  to  adorn 
their  Ghristmas  feast.  Humpy  invento- 
ried his  belongings,  but  could  think  of 
nothing  but  a  revolver  that  seemed  a 
suitable  gift  for  Shaver.  This  Mary 
scornfully  rejected  as  improper  for  one  so 
young.  Whereupon  Humpy  produced  a 
Mexican  silver  dollar,  a  treasured  pocket- 
piece  preserved  through  many  tribula- 
tions, and  dropped  it  reverently  into  one 
of  the  stockings.  Two  brass  buttons  of 
unknown  history,  a  mouth-organ  Mary 
had  bought  for  a  neighbor  boy  who  as- 
sisted at  times  in  the  poultry  yard,  and  a 
silver  spectacle  case  of  uncertain  antece- 
dents were  added. 

"We  ought  t'  'a'  colored  eggs  fer  'im!" 
said  The  Hopper  with  sudden  inspiration, 

135 

I 


after  the  stockings  had  been  restored  to 
Shaver's  bed.  "Some  yaller  an'  pink  eggs 
would  'a'  been  the  right  ticket." 

Mary  scoffed  at  the  idea.  Eggs  was  n't 
proper  fer  Christmas;  eggs  was  fer  Easter. 
Humpy  added  the  weight  of  his  personal 
experience  of  Christian  holidays  to  this 
statement.  While  a  trusty  in  the  Missouri 
penitentiary  with  the  chicken  yard  in 
his  keeping,  he  remembered  distinctly 
that  eggs  were  in  demand  for  purposes 
of  decoration  by  the  warden's  children 
sometime  in  the  spring;  mebbe  it  was 
Easter,  mebbe  it  was  Decoration  Day; 
Humpy  was  not  sure  of  anything  except 
that  it  was  n't  Christmas. 

The  Hopper  was  meek  under  correction. 

It  having  been  settled  that  colored  eggs 

would  not  be  appropriate  for  Christmas 

he  yielded  to  their  demand  that  he  show 

136 


(ft  (Rmwifife  ^anfa  Cfau* 

some  enthusiasm  for  disposing  of  his  ill- 
gotten  treasures  before  the  police  arrived 
to  take  the  matter  out  of  his  hands. 

"I  guess  that  Muriel' 11  be  glad  to  see 
me,"  he  remarked.  "I  guess  me  and  her 
understands  each  other.  They's  things 
wot  is  an'  things  wot  ain't;  an'  I  guess 
Hop  ain't  goin'  to  spend  no  Chris'mas  in 
jail.  It's  the  white  card  an'  poultry  an' 
eggs  fer  us;  an'  we're  goin'  t'  put  in  a 
couple  more  incubators  right  away.  I  'm 
thinkin'  some  o'  rentin'  that  acre  across 
th'  brook  back  yonder  an'  raisin*  tur- 
keys. They's  mints  in  turks,  ef  ye  kin 
keep  'em  from  gettin'  their  feet  wet  an' 
dyin'  o'  pneumonia,  which  wipes  out 
thousands  o'  them  birds.  I  reckon  ye 
might  make  some  coffee,  Mary." 

The  Christmas  dawn  found  them  at 
the  table,  where  they  were  renewing  a 
137 


^anfo  Cfau* 

pledge  to  play  "the  white  card"  when  a 
cry  from  Shaver  brought  them  to  their 
feet. 

Shaver  was  highly  pleased  with  his 
Christmas  stockings,  but  his  pleasure 
was  nothing  to  that  of  The  Hopper, 
Mary,  and  Humpy,  as  they  stood  about 
the  bed  and  watched  him.  Mary  and 
Humpy  were  so  relieved  by  The  Hopper's 
promises  to  lead  a  better  life  that  they 
were  now  disposed  to  treat  their  guest 
with  the  most  distinguished  consideration. 
Humpy,  absenting  himself  to  perform 
his  morning  tasks  in  the  poultry-houses, 
returned  bringing  a  basket  containing  six 
newly  hatched  chicks.  These  cheeped  and 
ran  over  Shaver's  fat  legs  and  performed 
exactly  as  though  they  knew  they  were 
a  part  of  his  Christmas  entertainment. 
Humpy,  proud  of  having  thought  of  the 
138 


chicks,  demanded  the  privilege  of  serving 
Shaver's  breakfast.  Shaver  ate  his  por- 
ridge without  a  murmur,  so  happy  was  he 
over  his  new  playthings. 

Mary  bathed  and  dressed  him  with 
care.  As  the  candy  had  stuck  to  the 
stockings  in  spots,  it  was  decided  after  a 
family  conference  that  Shaver  would  have 
to  wear  them  wrong  side  out  as  there  was 
no  time  to  be  wasted  in  washing  them. 
By  eight  o'clock  The  Hopper  announced 
that  it  was  time  for  Shaver  to  go  home. 
Shaver  expressed  alarm  at  the  thought 
of  leaving  his  chicks;  whereupon  Humpy 
conferred  two  of  them  upon  him  in  the 
best  imitation  of  baby  talk  that  he  could 
muster. 

"Me's  tate  urn  to  me's  gwanpas,"  said 
Shaver;  "chickee  for  me's  two  gwanpas," 
—  a  remark  which  caused  The  Hopper 
139 


to  shake  for  a  moment  with  mirth  as  he 
recalled  his  last  view  of  Shaver's  "gwan- 
pas"  in  a  death  grip  upon  the  floor  of 
"Gwanpa"  Talbot's  house. 


IX 


IX 

WHEN  The  Hopper  rolled  away  from 
Happy  Hill  Farm  in  the  stolen  machine, 
accompanied  by  one  stolen  child  and  forty 
thousand  dollars'  worth  of  stolen  pottery, 
Mary  wept,  whether  because  of  the  part- 
ing with  Shaver,  or  because  she  feared  that 
The  Hopper  would  never  return,  was  not 
clear. 

Humpy,  too,  showed  signs  of  tears,  but 
concealed  his  weakness  by  performing  a 
grotesque  dance,  dancing  grotesquely  by 
the  side  of  the  car,  much  to  Shaver's 
joy  —  a  joy  enhanced  just  as  the  car 
143 


Cfau* 

reached  the  gate,  where,  as  a  farewell 
attention,  Humpy  fell  down  and  rolled 
over  and  over  in  the  snow. 

The  Hopper's  wits  were  alert  as  he 
bore  Shaver  homeward.  By  this  time  it 
was  likely  that  the  confiding  young  Tal- 
bots  had  conferred  over  the  telephone 
and  knew  that  their  offspring  had  disap- 
peared. Doubtless  the  New  Haven  police 
had  been  notified,  and  he  chose  his  route 
with  discretion  to  avoid  unpleasant  en- 
counters. Shaver,  his  spirits  keyed  to  holi- 
day pitch,  babbled  ceaselessly,  and  The 
Hopper,  highly  elated,  babbled  back  at 
him. 

They  arrived  presently  at  the  rear  of 
the  young  Talbots'  premises,  and  The 
Hopper,  with  Shaver  trotting  at  his  side, 
advanced  cautiously  upon  the  house  bear- 
ing the  two  baskets,  one  containing  Shav- 
144 


(ft  (Rtwwiftfe 

er's  chicks,  the  other  the  precious  porce- 
lains. In  his  survey  of  the  landscape  he 
noted  with  trepidation  the  presence  of 
two  big  limousines  in  the  highway  in 
front  of  the  cottage  and  decided  that  if 
possible  he  must  see  Muriel  alone  and 
make  his  report  to  her. 

The  moment  he  entered  the  kitchen  he 
heard  the  clash  of  voices  in  angry  dispute 
in  the  living-room.  Even  Shaver  was 
startled  by  the  violence  of  the  conversa- 
tion in  progress  within,  and  clutched 
tightly  a  fold  of  The  Hopper's  trousers. 

"I  tell  you  it's  John  Wilton  who  has 
stolen  Billie! "  a  man  cried  tempestuously. 
"Anybody  who  would  enter  a  neighbor's 
house  in  the  dead  of  night  and  try  to 
rob  him  —  rob  him,  yes,  and  murder  him 
in  the  most  brutal  fashion  —  would  not 
scruple  to  steal  his  own  grandchild!" 
145 


"Me's  gwanpa,"  whispered  Shaver, 
gripping  The  Hopper's  hand,  "an'  'im's 
mad." 

That  Mr.  Talbot  was  very  angry  indeed 
was  established  beyond  cavil.  However, 
Mr.  Wilton  was  apparently  quite  capable 
of  taking  care  of  himself  in  the  dispute. 

"You  talk  about  my  stealing  when  you 
robbed  me  of  my  Lang-Yao  —  bribed  my 
servants  to  plunder  my  safe!  I  want  you 
to  understand  once  for  all,  Roger  Talbot, 
that  if  that  jar  is  n't  returned  within  one 
hour,  —  within  one  hour,  sir,  —  I  shall 
turn  you  over  to  the  police!" 

"Liar!"  bellowed  Talbot,  who  possessed 
a  voice  of  great  resonance.  "You  can't 
mitigate  your  foul  crime  by  charging  me 
with  another!  I  never  saw  your  jar;  I 
never  wanted  it!  I  wouldn't  have  the 
thing  on  my  place!" 

146 


Muriel's  voice,  full  of  tears,  was  lifted 
in  expostulation. 

"How  can  you  talk  of  your  silly  vases 
when  Billie's  lost!  Billie's  been  stolen  — 
and  you  two  men  can  think  of  nothing 
but  pot-ter-ree!" 

Shaver  lifted  a  startled  face  to  The 
Hopper. 

"Mamma's  cwyin';  gwanpa's  hurted 
mamma!" 

The  strategic  moment  had  arrived  when 
Shaver  must  be  thrust  forward  as  an  in- 
terruption to  the  exchange  of  disagree- 
able epithets  by  his  grandfathers. 

"You  trot  right  in  there  t'  yer  ma, 
Shaver.  Ole  Hop  ain't  goin'  t'  let  'em 
hurt  ye!" 

He  led  the  child  through  the  dining- 
room  to  the  living-room  door  and  pushed 
him  gently  on  the  scene  of  strife.  Talbot, 
147 


(ft  (RmwWe  ^anfa  Cfau* 

senior,  was  pacing  the  floor  with  angry 
strides,  declaiming  upon  his  wrongs,  — 
indeed,  his  theme  might  have  been  the 
misery  of  the  whole  human  race  from  the 
vigor  of  his  lamentations.  His  son  was 
keeping  step  with  him,  vainly  attempt- 
ing to  persuade  him  to  sit  down.  Wilton, 
with  a  patch  over  his  right  eye,  was  trying 
to  disengage  himself  from  his  daughter's 
arms  with  the  obvious  intention  of  doing 
violence  to  his  neighbor. 

"I'm  sure  papa  never  meant  to  hurt 
you;  it  was  all  a  dreadful  mistake,"  she 
moaned. 

"He  had  an  accomplice,"  Talbot  thun- 
dered, "and  while  he  was  trying  to  kill 
me  there  in  my  own  house  the  plum- 
blossom  vase  was  carried  off;  and  if  Roger 
had  n't  pushed  him  out  of  the  window 
after  his  hireling  —  I'd  —  I'd  — " 
148 


(ft  (Re&emfife  ^anfa  Cfau* 

A  shriek  from  Muriel  happily  prevented 
the  completion  of  a  sentence  that  gave 
every  promise  of  intensifying  the  prevail- 
ing hard  feeling. 

"  Look! "  Muriel  cried.  "It's  Billie  come 
back!  Oh,  Billie!" 

She  sprang  toward  the  door  and  clasped 
the  frightened  child  to  her  heart.  The 
three  men  gathered  round  them,  staring 
dully.  The  Hopper  from  behind  the  door 
waited  for  Muriel's  joy  over  Billie's  re- 
turn to  communicate  itself  to  his  father 
and  the  two  grandfathers. 

"Me's  dot  two  chick-ees  for  Kwis- 
mus,"  announced  Billie,  wriggling  in  his 
mother's  arms. 

Muriel,  having  satisfied  herself  that 
Billie  was  intact,  —  that  he  even  bore 
the  marks  of  maternal  care,  —  was  hi  the 
act  of  transferring  him  to  his  bewildered 

149 


father,  when,  turning  a  tear-stained  face 
toward  the  door,  she  saw  The  Hopper 
awkwardly  twisting  the  derby  which  he 
had  donned  as  proper  for  a  morning  call 
of  ceremony.  She  walked  toward  him  with 
quick,  eager  step. 

"You  —  you  came  back!"  she  fal- 
tered, stifling  a  sob. 

"Yes'm,"  responded  The  Hopper,  rub- 
bing his  hand  across  his  nose.  His  appear- 
ance roused  Billie's  father  to  a  sense  of  his 
parental  responsibility. 

"You  brought  the  boy  back!  You  are 
the  kidnaper!" 

"Roger,"  cried  Muriel  protestingly, 
"don't  speak  like  that!  I'm  sure  this 
gentleman  can  explain  how  he  came  to 
bring  Billie." 

The  quickness  with  which  she  regained 
her  composure,  the  ease  with  which  she 
150 


THE   THREE   MEN   GATHERED   ROUND   THEM,  STARING   DULLY 


adjusted  herself  to  the  unforeseen  situa- 
tion, pleased  The  Hopper  greatly.  He 
had  not  misjudged  Muriel;  she  was  an 
admirable  ally,  an  ideal  confederate.  She 
gave  him  a  quick  little  nod,  as  much  as  to 
say,  "Go  on,  sir;  we  understand  each 
other  perfectly,"  —  though,  of  course, 
she  did  not  understand,  nor  was  she 
enlightened  until  some  time  later,  as  to 
just  how  The  Hopper  became  possessed 
of  Billie. 

Billie's  father  declared  his  purpose  to 
invoke  the  law  upon  his  son's  kidnapers 
no  matter  where  they  might  be  found. 

"  I  reckon  as  mebbe  ut  wuz  a  kidnapin' 
an'  I  reckon  as  mebbe  ut  wuz  n't,"  The 
Hopper  began  unhurriedly.  "I  live  over 
Shell  Road  way;  poultry  and  eggs  is  my 
line;  Happy  Hill  Farm.  Stevens  's  the 
name  —  Charles  S.  Stevens.  An*  I  found 
151 


Cfau* 

Shaver  —  'scuse  me,  but  ut  seemed  sort 

\ 

o'  nat'ral  name  fer  'im  —  I  found  'im  a 
settin'  up  in  th'  machine  over  there  by 
my  place,  chipper 's  ye  please.  I  takes  'im 
into  my  house  an'  Mary  —  that 's  th' 
missus  —  she  gives  'im  supper  and  puts 
'im  t'  sleep.  An'  we  thinks  mebbe  some- 
body'd  come  along  askin'  fer  'im.  An' 
then  this  mornin'  I  calls  th'  New  Haven 
police,  an'  they  tole  me  about  you  folks, 
an'  me  and  Shaver  comes  right  over." 

This  was  entirely  plausible  and  his 
hearers,  The  Hopper  noted  with  relief, 
accepted  it  at  face  value. 

"How  dear  of  you!"  cried  Muriel. 
"Won't  you  have  this  chair,  Mr.  Stev- 
ens!" 

"Most  remarkable!"  exclaimed  Wil- 
ton. "Some  scoundrelly  tramp  picked  up 
the  car  and  finding  there  was  a  baby  in- 
152 


CCau* 

side  left  it  at  the  roadside  like  the  brute 
he  was!" 

Billie  had  addressed  himself  promptly 
to  the  Christmas  tree,  to  his  very  own 
Christmas  tree  that  was  laden  with  gifts 
that  had  been  assembled  by  the  family 
for  his  delectation.  Efforts  of  Grand- 
father Wilton  to  extract  from  the  child 
some  account  of  the  man  who  had  run 
away  with  him  were  unavailing.  Billie 
was  busy,  very  busy,  indeed.  After  much 
patient  effort  he  stopped  sorting  the  ani- 
mals in  a  bright  new  Noah's  Ark  to  point 
his  finger  at  The  Hopper  and  remark:  — 

"'Ims  nice  mans;  'ims  let  Bil-lee  play 
wif  'ims  watch!" 

As   Billie   had   broken  the  watch   his 
acknowledgment  of  The  Hopper's  cour- 
tesy in  letting  him  play  with  it  brought  a 
grin  to  The  Hopper's  face. 
153 


(ft  (RtiKwtfift  ^anfa  Cfau* 

Now  that  Billie  had  been  returned 
and  his  absence  satisfactorily  accounted 
for,  the  two  connoisseurs  showed  signs  of 
renewing  their  quarrel.  Responsive  to 
a  demand  from  Billie,  The  Hopper  got 
down  on  the  floor  to  assist  in  the  proper 
mating  of  Noah's  animals.  Billie's  father 
was  scrutinizing  him  fixedly  and  The  Hop- 
per wondered  whether  Muriel's  handsome 
young  husband  had  recognized  him  as 
the  person  who  had  vanished  through 
the  window  of  the  Talbot  home  bearing 
the  plum-blossom  vase.  The  thought  was 
disquieting;  but  feigning  deep  interest  in 
the  Ark  he  listened  attentively  to  a  vio- 
lent tirade  upon  which  the  senior  Talbot 
was  launched. 

"My  God!"  he  cried  bitterly,  planting 
himself  before  Wilton  in  a  belligerent 
attitude,  "every  infernal  thing  that  can 
154 


Cfau* 

happen  to  a  man  happened  to  me  yester- 
day. It  was  n't  enough  that  you  robbed 
me  and  tried  to  murder  me  —  yes,  you 
did,  sir!  —  but  when  I  was  in  the  city  I 
was  robbed  in  the  subway  by  a  pick- 
pocket. A  thief  took  my  bill-book  con- 
taining invaluable  data  I  had  just  re- 
ceived from  my  agent  in  China  giving  me 
a  clue  to  porcelains,*sir,  such  as  you  never 
dreamed  of!  Some  more  of  your  work  — 
Don't  you  contradict  me!  You  don't 
contradict  me!  Roger,  he  does  n't  contra- 
dict me!" 

Wilton,  choking  with  indignation  at 
this  new  onslaught,  was  unable  to  contra- 
dict him. 

Pained  by  the  situation/ The  Hopper 
rose  from  the  floor  and  coughed  timidly. 

"Shaver,  go  fetch  yer  chickies.    Bring 
yer  chickies  in  an'  put  'em  on  th'  boat." 
155 


Billie  obediently  trotted  off  toward  the 
kitchen  and  The  Hopper  turned  his  back 
upon  the  Christmas  tree,  drew  out  the 
pocket-book  and  faced  the  company. 

"I  beg  yer  pardon,  gents,  but  mebbe 
this  is  th'  book  yer  fightin'  about.  Kind 
o'  funny  like !  I  picked  ut  up  on  th'  local 
yistiddy  afternoon.  I  wuz  goin'  t'  turn 
ut  int'  th'  agint,  but  I  clean  fergot  ut.  I 
guess  them  papers  may  be  valible.  I 
never  touched  none  of  'em." 

Talbot  snatched  the  bill-book  and 
hastily  examined  the  contents.  His  brow 
relaxed  and  he  was  grumbling  something 
about  a  reward  when  Billie  reappeared, 
laboriously  dragging  two  baskets. 

"Bil-lee's  dot  chick-ees!  Bil-lee's  dot 
pitty  dishes.  Bil-lee  make  dishes  go 
'ippity!" 

Before  he  could  make  the  two  jars  go 
156 


(ft  (KUfctrriife  ^anfa  CCau* 

'ippity,  The  Hopper  leaped  across  the 
room  and  seized  the  basket.  He  tore  off 
the  towel  with  which  he  had  carefully 
covered  the  stolen  pottery  and  disclosed 
the  contents  for  inspection. 

"'Scuse  me,  gents;  no  crowdin',"  he 
warned  as  the  connoisseurs  sprang  toward 
him.  He  placed  the  porcelains  carefully 
on  the  floor  under  the  Christmas  tree. 
"Now  ye  kin  listen  t'  me,  gents.  I  reckon 
I  'm  goin'  t'  have  somethin'  t'  say  about 
this  here  crockery.  I  stole  'em  —  I  stole 
'em  fer  th'  lady  there,  she  thinkin'  ef  ye 
did  n't  have  'em  no  more  ye'd  stop  rowin' 
about  'em.  Ye  kin  call  th'  bulls  an'  turn 
me  over  ef  ye  likes;  but  I  ain't  goin' 
t'  have  ye  fussin'  an'  causin'  th'  lady 
trouble  no  kmore.  I  ain't  goin'  to  stand 
ferut!" 

"Robber!"  shouted  Talbot.  "You  en- 
157 


Cfau* 

tered  my  house  at  the  instance  of  this 
man;  it  was  you  — " 

"I  never  saw  the  gent  before,"  de- 
clared The  Hopper  hotly.  "I  ain't  never 
had  ^no thin'  to  do  with  neither  o'  ye." 

"He's  telling  the  truth!"  protested  Mu- 
riel, laughing  hysterically.  "I  did  it  —  I 
got  him  to  take  them!" 

The  two  collectors  were  not  interested 
in  explanations;  they  were  hungrily  eye- 
ing their  property.  Wilton  attempted  to 
pass  The  Hopper  and  reach  the  Christ- 
mas tree  under  whose  protecting  boughs 
the  two  vases  were  looking  their  loveliest. 

"Stand  back,"  commanded  The  Hop- 
per, "an'  stop  callin'  names!  I  guess  ef 
I  'm  yanked  fer  this  I  ain't  th'  only  one 
that's  goin'  t'  do  time  fer  house  breakin'." 

This  statement,  made  with  consider- 
able vigor,  had  a  sobering  effect  upon 
158 


Cfcw* 

Wilton,  but  Talbot  began  dancing  round 
the  tree  looking  for  a  chance  to  pounce 
upon  the  porcelains. 

"Ef  ye  don't  set  down  —  the  whole 
caboodle  o'  ye  —  I  '11  smash  'em  —  I  '11 
smash  'em  both!  I'll  bust  'em  —  sure  as 
shoo  tin'!"  shouted  The  Hopper. 

They  cowered  before  him;  Muriel  wept 
softly ;  Billie  played  with  his  chickies,  dis- 
dainful of  the  world's  woe.  The  Hopper, 
holding  the  two  angry  men  at  bay,  was 
enjoying  his  command  of  the  situation. 

"You  gents  ain't  got  no  business  to  be 
fussin'  an'  causin'  yer  childern  trouble. 
An'  ye  ain't  goin'  to  have  these  pretty 
jugs  to  fuss  about  no  more.  I  'm  goin'  t' 
give  'em  away;  I'm  goin'  to  make  a 
Chris' mas  present  of  'em  to  Shaver. 
They're  goin'  to  be  little  Shaver's  right 
here,  all  orderly  an'  peace'ble,  or  I'll 
159 


tromp  on  'em!   Looky  here,  Shaver,  wot 
Santy  Claus  brought  ye!" 

"Nicedood  Santf  Claus!"  cried  Billie, 
diving  under  the  davenport  in  quest  of 
the  wandering  chicks. 

Silence  held  the  grown-ups.  The  Hop- 
per stood  patiently  by  the  Christmas 
tree,  awaiting  the  result  of  his  diplomacy. 

Then  suddenly  Wilton  laughed  —  a 
loud  laugh  expressive  of  relief.  He  turned 
to  Talbot  and  put  out  his  hand. 

"It  looks  as  though  Muriel  and  her 
friend  here  had  cornered  us !  The  idea  of 
pooling  our  trophies  and  giving  them  as  a 
Christmas  present  to  Billie  appeals  to  me 
strongly.  And,  besides  we  Ve  got  to  pre- 
pare somebody  to  love  these  things  after 
we're  gone.  We  can  work  together  and 
train  Billie  to  be  the  greatest  collector  in 
America!" 

160 


(&  (Rmmfife 

"Please,  father,"  urged  Roger  as  Tal- 
bot  frowned  and  shook  his  head  impa- 
tiently. 

Billie,  struck  with  the  happy  thought 
of  hanging  one  of  his  chickies  on  the 
Christmas  tree,  .caused  them  all  to  laugh 
at  this  moment.  It  was  difficult  to  refuse 
to  be  generous  on  Christmas  morning  in 
the  presence  of  the  happy  child! 

"Well,"  said  Talbot,  a  reluctant  smile 
crossing  his  face,  "I  guess  it's  all  in  the 
family  anyway." 

The  Hopper,  feeling  that  his  work  as 
the  Reversible  Santa  Claus  was  finished, 
was  rapidly  retreating  through  the  dining- 
room  when  Muriel  and  Roger  ran  after 
him. 

"We're  going  to  take  you  home,"  cried 
Muriel,  beaming. 

"Yer  car's  at  the  back  gate,  all  right- 
161 


(ft  (Rmmfifc 

side-up,"  said  The  Hopper,  "but  I  kin  go 
on  the  trolley." 

"Indeed  you  won't!  Roger  will  take 
you  home.  Oh,  don't  be  alarmed!  My 
husband  knows  everything  about  our 
conspiracy.  And  we  want  you  to  come 
back  this  afternoon.  You  know  I  owe  you 
an  apology  for  thinking  —  for  thinking 
you  were  —  you  were  —  a  — " 

"They's  things  wot  is  an'  things  wot 
ain't,  miss.  Circumstantial  evidence  sends 
lots  o'  men  to  th'  chair.  Ut  's  a  heap  more 
happy  like,"  The  Hopper  continued  in 
his  best  philosophical  vein,  "t'  play  th' 
white  card,  helpin'  widders  an'  orfants  an' 
settlin'  fusses.  When  ye  ast  me  t'  steal 
them  jugs  I  had  n't  th'  heart  t'  refuse 
ye,  miss.  I  wuz  scared  to  tell  ye  I  had  yer 
baby  an'  ye  seemed  so  sort  o*  trustin'  like. 
An'  ut  bein'  Chris'mus  an'  all." 
162 


(ft  (Rmwtftfe  ^anfa  Cfaus 

When  he  steadfastly  refused  to  promise 
to  return,  Muriel  announced  that  they 
would  visit  The  Hopper  late  in  the  after- 
noon and  bring  Billie  along  to  express 
their  thanks  more  formally. 

"  I'll  be  glad  to  see  ye,"  replied  The  Hop- 
per, though  a  little  doubtfully  and  shame- 
facedly. "But  ye  must  n't  git  me  into  no 
more  house-breakin'  scrapes,"; he  added 
with  a  grin.  "  It 's  mighty  dangerous,  miss, 
fer  amachures,  like  me  an'  yer  pa!" 


X 


MARY  was  not  wholly  pleased  at  the  pros- 
pect of  visitors,  but  she  fell  to  work  with 
Humpy  to  put  the  house  in  order.  At  five 
o'clock  not  one,  but  three  automobiles 
drove  into  the  yard,  filling  Humpy  with 
alarm  lest  at  last  The  Hopper's  sins  had 
overtaken  him  and  they  were  all  about  to 
be  hauled  away  to  spend  the  rest  of  their 
lives  in  prison.  It  was  not  the  police, 
but  the  young  Talbots,  with  Billie  and 
his  grandfathers,  on  their  way  to  a  family 
celebration  at  the  house  of  an  aunt  of 
Muriel's. 

107 


The  grandfathers  were  restored  to  per- 
fect amity,  and  were  deeply  curious  now 
about  The  Hopper,  whom  the  peace- 
loving  Muriel  had  cajoled  into  robbing 
their  houses. 

"And  you're  only  an  honest  chicken 
farmer,  after  all!"  exclaimed  Talbot, 
senior,  when  they  were  all  sitting  in  a 
semicircle  about  the  fireplace  in  Mary's 
parlor.  "I  hoped  you  were  really  a  burg- 
lar; I  always  wanted  to  know  a  burglar." 

Humpy  had  chopped  down  a  small  fir 
that  had  adorned  the  front  yard  and  had 
set  it  up  as  a  Christmas  tree — an  atten- 
tion that  was  not  lost  upon  Billie.  The 
Hopper  had  brought  some  mechanical  toys 
from  town  and  Humpy  essayed  the  agree- 
able task  of  teaching  the  youngster  how 
to  operate  them.  Mary  produced  coffee 
and  pound  cake  for  the  guests;  The  Hop- 
163 


(Rtwwtfife  ^anfo  Cfau* 

per  assumed  the  role  of  lord  of  the  manor 
with  a  benevolent  air  that  was  intended 
as  much  to  impress  Mary  and  Humpy  as 
the  guests. 

"Of  course,"  said  Mr.  Wilton,  whose 
appearance  was  the  least  bit  comical  by 
reason  of  his  bandaged  head,  —  "of 
course  it  was  very  foolish  for  a  man  of 
your  sterling  character  to  allow  a  young 
woman  like  my  daughter  to  bully  you  into 
robbing  houses  for  her.  Why,  when  Roger 
fired  at  you  as  you  were  jumping  out  of 
the  window,  he  did  n't  miss  you  more 
than  a  foot!  It  would  have  been  ghastly 
for  all  of  us  if  he  had  killed  you!" 

"Well,  o'  course  it  all  begun  from  my 
goin'  into  th'  little  house  lookin'  fer  Shav- 
er's folks,"  replied  The  Hopper. 

"But  you  haven't  told  us  how  you 
came  to  find  our  house,"  said  Roger,  sug- 
169 


(ft  (Re&emfife  ^anfa  Cfau* 

gesting  a  perfectly  natural  line  of  inquir- 
ies that  caused  Humpy  to  become  deeply 
preoccupied  with  a  pump  he  was  operat- 
ing in  a  basin  of  water  for  Billie's  benefit. 

"Well,  ut  jes'  looked  like  a  house  that 
Shaver  would  belong  to,  cute  an'  comfort- 
able like,"  said  The  Hopper;  "I  jes'  sus- 
picioned  it  wuz  th'  place  as  I  wuz  passin' 
along." 

"I  don't  think  we'd  better  begin  try- 
ing to  establish  alibis,"  remarked  Muriel, 
very  gently,  "for  we  might  get  into  terri- 
ble scrapes.  Why,  if  Mr.  Stevens  had  n't 
been  so  splendid  about  everything  and 
was  n't  just  the  kindest  man  in  the  world, 
he  could  make  it  very  ugly  for  me." 

"I  shudder  to  think  of  what  he  might 
do  to  me,"  said  Wilton,  glancing  guard- 
edly at  his  neighbor. 

"The  main  thing,"  §aid  Talbot, — 
170 


Cfau* 

"the  main  thing  is  that  Mr.  Stevens  has 
done  for  us  all  what  nobody  else  could 
ever  have  done.  He's  made  us  see  how 
foolish  it  is  to  quarrel  about  mere  baubles. 
He's  settled  all  our  troubles  for  us,  and 
for  my  part  I  '11  say  his  solution  is  entirely 
satisfactory." 

"Quite  right,"  ejaculated  Wilton.  "If 
I  ever  have  any  delicate  business  negotia- 
tions that  are  beyond  my  powers  I'm 
going  to  engage  Mr.  Stevens  to  handle 
them." 

"My  business 's  hens  an*  eggs,"  said 
The  Hopper  modestly;  "an*  we're  doin' 
purty  well." 

When  they  rose  to  go  (a  move  that 
evoked  strident  protests  from  Billie,  who 
was  enjoying  himself  hugely  with  Humpy) 
they  were  all  in  the  jolliest  humor. 

"We  must  be  neighborly,"  said  Muriel, 
171 


anfo  Cfau* 

shaking  hands  with  Mary,  who  was  at  the 
point  of  tears  so  great  was  her  emotion 
at  the  success  of  The  Hopper's  party. 
"And  we're  going  to  buy  all  our  chickens 
and  eggs  from  you.  We  never  have  any 
luck  raising  our  own." 

Whereupon  The  Hopper  imperturbably 
pressed  upon  each  of  the  visitors  a  neat 
card  stating  his  name  (his  latest  and  let  us 
hope  his  last !)  with  the  proper  rural  route 
designation  of  Happy  Hill  Farm. 

The  Hopper  carried  Billie  out  to  his 
Grandfather  Wilton's  car,  while  Humpy 
walked  beside  him  bearing  the  gifts  from 
the  Happy  Hill  Farm  'Christmas  tree. 
From  the  door  Mary  watched  them  de- 
part amid  a  chorus  of  merry  Christmases, 
out  of  which  Billie's  little  pipe  rang 
cheerily. 

When  The  Hopper  and  Humpy  re- 
172 


(R^emfife  |tanfa  Cfau* 

turned  to  the  house,  they  abandoned  the 
parlor  for  the  greater  coziness  of  the 
kitchen  and  there  took  account  of  the 
events  of  the  momentous  twenty-four 
hours. 

"Them's  what  I  call  nice  folks,"  said 
Humpy.  "They  jes'  put  us  on  an*  wore 
us  like  we  wuz  a  pair  o'  ole  slippers." 

"They  wuz  n't  uppish  —  not  to  speak 
of,"  Mary  agreed.  "I  guess  that  girl's 
got  more  gumption  than  any  of  'em.  She 's 
got  'em  straightened  up  now  and  I  guess 
she'll  take  care  they  don't  cut  up  no 
more  monkey-shines  about  that  Chinese 
stuff.  Her  husban'  seemed  sort  o'  gentle 
like." 

"Artists  is  that  way,"  volunteered  The 

Hopper,  as  though  from  deep  experience 

of  art  and  lite.   "I  jes'  been  thinkin'  that 

knowin'  folks  like  that  an'  findin'  'em 

173 


humin,  makin'  mistakes  like  th'  rest  of  us, 
kind  o'  makes  ut  seem  easier  fer  us  all  t' 
play  th'  game  straight.  Ut's  goin'  to  be 
th'  white  card  fer  me, —  jes*  chickens  an* 
eggs,  an'  here's  hopin'  the  bulls  don't 
ever  find  out  we're  settled  here." 

Humpy,  having  gone  into  the  parlor  to 
tend  the  fire,  returned  with  two  envelopes 
he  had  found  on  the  mantel.  There  was 
a  check  for  a  thousand  dollars  in  each, 
one  from  Wilton,  the  other  from  Talbot, 
with  "Merry  Christmas"  written  across 
the  visiting-cards  of  those  gentlemen. 
The  Hopper  permitted  Mary  and  Humpy 
to  examine  them  and  then  laid  them  on 
the  kitchen  table,  while  he  deliberated. 
His  meditations  were  so  prolonged  that 
they  grew  nervous. 

"  I  reckon  they  could  spare  ut,  after  all 
ye  done  fer  'em,  Hop,"  remarked  Humpy. 
174 


"They's  millionaires,  an'  money  ain't 
nothin'  to  'em,"  said  The  Hopper. 

"We  can  buy  a  mo  tor- truck,"  sug- 
gested Mary,  "to  haul  our  stuff  to  town; 
an'  mebbe  we  can  build  a  new  shed  to 
keep  ut  in." 

The  Hopper  set  the  catsup  bottle  on  the 
checks  and  rubbed  his  cheek,  squinting 
at  the  ceiling  in  the  manner  of  one  who 
means  to  be  careful  of  his  speech. 

"They's  things  wot  is  an'  things  wot 
ain't,"  he  began.  "  We  ain't  none  o'  us  ever 
got  nowheres  bein'  crooked.  I  been  figurin* 
that  I  still  got  about  twenty  thousan'  o* 
that  bunch  o'  green  I  pulled  out  o'  that 
express  car,  planted  in  places  where  'taint 
doin'  nobody  no  good.  I  guess  ef  I  do  ut 
careful  I  kin  send  ut  back  to  the  com- 
pany, a  little  at  a  time,  an'  they'd  never 
know  where  ut  come  from." 
175 


(ft  (Rtuettftfife  ^anfa  Cfau* 

Mary  wept;  Humpy  stared,  his  mouth 
open,  his  one  eye  rolling  queerly. 

"  I  guess  we  kin  put  a  little  chunk  away 
every  year,"  The  Hopper  went  on.  "We'd 
be  comfortabler  doin'  ut.  We  could 
square  up  ef  we  lived  long  enough,  which 
we  don't  need  t'  worry  about,  that  bein' 
the  Lord's  business.  You  an'  me 's  cracked 
a  good  many  safes,  Hump,  but  we  never 
made  no  money  at  ut,  takin'  out  th'  time 
we  done." 

"He's  got  religion;  that's  wot  he's 
got!"  moaned  Humpy,  as  though  this 
marked  the  ultimate  tragedy  of  The 
Hopper's  life. 

"Mebbe  ut's  religion  an'  mebbe  ut's 
jes'  sense,"  pursued  The  Hopper,  un- 
shaken by  Humpy's  charge.  "They  wuz 
a  chaplin  in  th'  Minnesoty  pen  as  used 
t'  say  ef  we're  all  square  with  our  own 
170 


(Hmr0i6fe  ^anfa  Cfau* 

selves  ut's  goin'  to  be  all  right  with  God. 
I  guess  I  got  a  good  deal  o'  squarin'  t'  do, 
but  I  'm  goin'  t'  begin  ut.  An'  all  these 
things  happenin'  along  o'  Chris'mus,  an* 
little  Shaver  an'  his  ma  bein'  so  friendly 
like,  an'  her  gittin'  me  t'  help  straighten 
out  them  ole  gents,  an*  doin'  all  I  done 
an'  not  gettin'  pinched  seems  more  'n  jes' 
luck;  it's  providential 's  wot  ut  is!" 

This,  uttered  in  a  challenging  tone, 
evoked  a  sob  from  Humpy,  who  an- 
nounced that  he  "felt  like"  he  was  going 
to  die. 

"It's  th'  Chris'mus  time,  I  reckon," 
said  Mary,  watching  The  Hopper  deposit 
the  two  checks  in  the  clock.  "It's  the 
only  decent  Chris'mus  I  ever  knowed!" 

THE  END 


Cfic 

CAMBRIDGE  .  MASSACHUSETTS 
U   .   S   .   A 


University  of  California 

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